


The Sun is Still Shining

by Triceratops_the_dino



Category: SpongeBob SquarePants (Cartoon), The SpongeBob Musical - Various/Anthony & Coulton/Jarrow
Genre: M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:54:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 30,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22521343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triceratops_the_dino/pseuds/Triceratops_the_dino
Summary: A collection of Spongebob one shots. Mainly patbob spongerick, and always human AU
Relationships: Sandy Cheeks/SpongeBob SquarePants/Patrick Star, SpongeBob SquarePants/Patrick Star
Comments: 32
Kudos: 57





	1. I Love You Baby, Regardless of What Happened

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> when i tell y'all I've been thinking about this for DAYS i mean it.
> 
> Bobby Porous has to deal with the aftermath of the incident with Mount Humongous.

_“You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you…”_

Bobby Porous danced to Frank Sinatra’s cover of the song _I Love You Baby._ In his mind, the music was all pinks and greens, flowers and their leaves, maybe a little hint of gold, too. 

He’d been listening to the song on a loop for the past hour and a half, and so consequently, his hair was sticking slightly to his forhead. The strands pressed to his forehead had turned from their natural shade of burnt orange to a coppery kind of red-orange admist the sweat. 

_“At long last love has arrived, And I thank God I’m alive…”_

Bobby supposed that it wasn’t really dancing; he mainly was jumping around his living room, spinning around the room, and weird arm gestures that weren’t really anything. He was having fun though, and really, that was all that mattered to him. 

It’d been a couple days since the volcano incident, and Bobby tried his best not to remember those two days, and preferred to push them to the back of his mind. He had to deal with the nightmares at night, on his own. But he had Gary, so maybe he wasn’t really alone. The day the volcano was supposed to erupt, he told the citizens of his beach town that he wasn’t scared, that as long as they had each other, they’d be fine, but he was terrified. Sandy looked like a shell of her former self, Patrick looked scared and stayed as close to Bobby as he could, his hand seeking out some sort of contact from him. As for Bobby, he just knew his face was smudged with dirt and soot, streaked with tears and sweat. 

He wasn’t sure where that left him with his friends, when they didn’t burn alive. Yeah, they’d held the concert in celebration of not…dying, and even Edward had praised Bobby, but he wasn’t sure what was happening in the world around him. After the concert ended, he managed to slip away while everyone was distracted, and hid himself away in his home. After those two days, he needed the alone time, and since then, he hasn’t left the house. He hasn’t turned on the TV, or checked any of his messages, or updates on social media, nothing. 

And well, here he is, trying to heal from the horrors of facing his mortality. He’d downloaded the song to his phone as a result of the echoes of the song in his head, the earworm whispering the tune as he hummed along to what he could remember of the chorus.

_“The sight of you leaves me weak, there are no words left to speak…”_

And so he danced. Not good, but no one was watching him, so what did it matter? 

Thoughts of his best friend just kept flooding his mind, and thinking of Pat with Sinatra’s singing made Bobby feel a desperation that just kept clawing at him. It made his heart beat faster, and made him feel like he needed to go to Patrick. He so badly wanted to let himself loose, running until he reached Pat’s house, just two houses down. But everytime he got to the door, he couldn’t bring himself to open the door just yet. 

God, it left him so conflicted, and every single time, he had to take the music with him to the bathroom where he just sat under the spray of hot water. It killed the mood, leaving Bobby numb. It didn’t help that his phone screen lit up with a message from Pat at _least_ once an hour. Bobby’s stomach churned with nerves mixed with the longing to respond and just invite Pat over, pretend that nothing happened. He felt guilty, though he shouldn’t, and it made it almost impossible _not_ to cry.

_“Oh pretty baby, don’t bring me down I pray…”_

Three and a half knocks on a door echoed through Bobby’s house, a code between him and Pat, so they knew it was the other. For a split second, Bobby forgot that he gave Pat a spare key, and hoped that maybe Pat forgot, too. He wasn’t ready to face him yet. 

But maybe Bobby’s luck was all used up when they defeated the volcano, when the heat licked Bobby’s face in waves as he dropped the Eruptor Interrupter into the bright orang-yellow lava. Bobby reaches out of his curled postition and reaches towards the faucet, and makes the water searingly cold. It soothes the phantom heat when he thinks about that day. 

Footsteps grow louder outside, and Bobby knows from the gait that it has to be Patrick. The shower curtain jerks close, but only after his sweet Gary hops onto the ledge at the back of the tub, away from the water. 

_“Now that I’ve found you stay, and let me love you, baby, let me love you…”_

“Bobby?” Pat’s voice rings in Bobby’s head, the first voice he’s heard in days, apart from his own and Sinatra’s. 

Bobby’s breath catches in his throat, a dry sob. “Are you okay, buddy?” Pat asks, approaching the curtain but sitting on the ground and leaning his back against the tub. 

“Yeah.” his voice is a whisper, probably inaudible to Pat over the sound of water hitting the floor of the tub. So he repeats the word a little louder. 

“I haven’t…you haven’t talked to me in days and I was—scared. I don’t know what I thought but…I wouldn’t blame you if you’re still mad at me, you know?” Patrick’s thoughts stumble over each other in Bobby’s mind, tripping over one another as he tries to get to the one that’s most important to him. 

“I’m not mad.” Bobby says, simply, knowing he won’t leave it at that. Bobby’s been told he has issues with being quiet. “I just….” He trails off, thinking.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. Just thought maybe I oughta stop pitying myself when you didn’t reach out to me and check on you face to face.” Pat sounds unsure of himself, and it makes Bobby’s heart splinter. 

“It’s just that it’s been hard, since…y’know, and I can’t stop thinking all the time.” Bobby lowers his head and rests it on a knee, watching the water lap at his toes before going down the drain.

_“I wanna hold you so much, at long last love has arrived…”_

A hand appears in the tub from the outside, and Bobby’s eyes focus on that, knowing that the hand belongs to Pat. Hesitantly, he reaches over and places his small hand inside his best friends bigger one. Bobby always thought their hands fit like pieces in a puzzle, they belong together, whether it be as best friends or more. Bobby thinks he’d be scared to take that leap, if it came to that.

“Jeez, Sponge,” Pat uses his nickname for Bobby. Sponge, because he takes everything from everyone— “your hand’s freezing. You have to get out of there before you die.”

That manages to tease a small laugh out of Bobby, because even he knows that isn’t possible. “It helps.” He replies when Pat turns the water off. He’d had to search for a bit before he found the faucet, probably because Pat didn’t wanna invade Bobby’s privacy like that. “I always feel like the heat from the volcano is still searing my skin.” 

The curtain is flung open, and a towel chucked his way. Bobby notices Pat is looking straight up at the ceiling, away from Bobby. That scares Bobby, and makes his eyes brim with tears. Bobby tells himself he’s being irrational, but that doesn’t stop him from feeling. He buries his face in his towel and wraps it around his freckled body when he’s dry. Only then does Pat look at him for the first time in days. 

_“I love you baby, and if it’s quite alright, I need you baby…”_

“Bobby, look in the mirror, your lips are blue.” Bobby glances at his reflection and immediately thinks of the Coral Blue Number 2 Semi-Gloss Lipstick, a joke from the time he, Squidward, and Mr Krabs went on a celebration vacation. He smiles slightly at the memory, a wisp of a good thought crossing his face in the mirror. 

“Bobby?” He shifts his eyes towards Pat’s reflection, listening. “Go get dressed. You’re naked and in a towel.” Pat states, and Bobby smiles, the first one in days. Gary follows close behind as Bobby takes the brief walk to his room, and throws on the first pair of PJ shorts and shirts that his hand touches. For the first time in what seems to be forever, Bobby doesn’t even care if they match or not.

“Star?” Bobby calls out to Patrick, the nickname slipping out of habit. 

“In the library.” Pat’s voice calls out. Spongebob honestly doesn’t know how he managed to get a library in his house, but it definitely was the most expensive part of his house. He wanted to create a space that felt safe, while also allowing him to keep up with his obsession with collecting books.

Bobby notes how filled the shelves are, a couple spaces left. It makes him wonder what will come next, after all this. 

_“Trust in me when I say…”_

He doesn’t want this to be it for him and Pat. They came this far, and Pat was likely still beating himself up over leaving Bobby in the first place. There’s no reason he shouldn’t just forgive Pat right now.

It’s been days, he needs to make up his mind. 

“So….” Bobby starts, unsure of what to say, but knowing he was only slightly uncomfortable. 

Patrick doesn’t say anything, just opens his arms. An invitation. 

Bobby feels as though time has frozen. He wonders what would happen if he walked away now. Was time actually frozen, or were things processing slowly, just like when Pat saved him on the volcano? 

This is a decision that Bobby knows will either reinforce their feelings or have them walk away, on two separate paths. This is a leap, not a step, not a jump. It’s a leap of faith, and like Sandy said, “If you wait, it’s too late, you’re defeated.” 

It’s like trying to jump over a chasm. Terrifying, heading into the unknown. 

Bobby walks forward, towards Pat. As soon as he’s able, Pat’s arms wrap around Bobby, whose cheek rests on Patrick’s chest. Pat rests his chin on the top of Bobby’s head. Suddenly, it’s as though Bobby knows that it’s okay that not everything is fine. 

“I’m so sorry.” He mutters to Pat. 

“You don’t need to be, buddy, I was the one who made the mistake, not you, and I promise that I’ll never do it again.”  
  
Bobby feels his face warm up, and finally, finally something else other than guilt and desperate sorrow fill him. He hugs Pat tighter.

When they separate, they find their hand is holding the others.

Bobby bites his bottom lip in thought, eyebrows scrunching together as Pat looks at him, curiosity laced in his eyes. Eventually, Bobby nods, a small smile gracing his face as he shares what he imagines Sinatra would agree with—sharing music means you need to project it from what you’re feeling. 

Bobby sings the song this time, imagining the music surrounding him, finally bringing the color back to the world. 

_“And let me love you baby…”_

“Pat, I love you.” Bobby says, when he finishes the final note. 

“Love you too, Bobby.” Pat replies, smiling when Bobby stands on tiptoe and places a kiss on Pat’s cheek. 

_“Let me love you….”_


	2. I Won't Dance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another Frank Sinatra song? Yes. 
> 
> Not my fault though, his songs are amazing and they inspire me.
> 
> Sidenote: I have yet another Sinatra inspired one coming up but it might take a while cause I have school, but stay tuned!!

_ “I won’t dance, don’t ask me…”  _

Patrick can’t dance. Too him, that’s a fact that he thinks is plain to see. And still, whether it be Bobby or Sandy asking him, he feels bad for saying no. But he doesn’t want them to think he’s stupid for not knowing how to even dance. He already knows he’s not the smartest, and that’s the worst part to him. 

_ “My heart won’t let me do things they should do. You know what, you’re lovely…”  _

_  
_ Sometimes, Pat thinks the only thing he _can_ do is eat, sleep, and play music. At least, he thinks he’s good at making music. Bobby’s assured him so many times that he’s perfect the way he is. But sometimes Pat doesn’t know whether that’s true. 

He  _ wants _ to dance, and that’s the bad thing. His parents tried to get him to learn how to do something when they found that he wasn’t great at normal things. They’d enrolled him in a ballroom dancing class; it was supposed to teach the students how to do many types of slow dances, and a few faster ones. 

He got kicked out. Turns out, he isn’t the most graceful, and he supposes that maybe knocking over a glass table wasn’t very inexpensive, but why should a  _ dance _ class have glass? 

He’s watched Sandy and Bobby dance, wishing he were one of them. They just looked so focused on each other that they didn’t have to think about where their feet went. They were so lovely together. Maybe Pat was the odd one out.

_ “When you dance, you’re charming and you’re gentle…”  _

They were always so gentle with him, but he’s always so absorbed with his thoughts of music. He plays at diners, bars, clubs, wherever he can, really. Sometimes he gets paid, and sometimes he doesn’t. That doesn’t ever matter to him, though. He just loves spreading his joys to the world. 

He sings Frank Sinatra mostly, idly plucking chords on his guitar while the track for the orchestra plays from the speaker. Neither Bobby nor Sandy know he’s singing and playing at all; and he’s tried telling them, but coincidentally, whenever he tries bringing it up, they aren’t listening. He’s given up trying to tell them at this point, simply dedicating them to “two very special people in his life.” 

The crowds that show up increase every time, and on social media platforms, he comes across the occasional post trying to find out who he’s talking about. He can’t respond otherwise his “secret” will be outed to his girlfriend and boyfriend. Since they haven’t figured it out by now, he isn’t sure he wants them to just yet. 

_ “For heaven rest us, I’m not asbestos…”  _

He often catches Edward, Pat and Bobby’s neighbor, at the places he plays, clarinet in hand. Edward is a pretty anxious guy, and he isn’t as bad as some people tell him. When Pat sees Edward on those nights, he makes sure to cheer as loud as he can for the poor guy. 

He’s told the two that Edward plays at clubs and bars, and diners, and both Sandy and Bobby have said they ought to go watch Edward play. So Pat has come up with a plan. A genius one, if he says so himself.

They’ve arranged to go to a diner tonight. Pat visited earlier and told Edward he wants to perform tonight, but can only do it if Edward goes on before him. It seems that’s exactly what Edward needed to hear, because he’d said he was right about to tell Pat he’d given up. 

_ “And that’s why I won’t dance, why should I?” _

It isn’t that Patrick isn’t appreciated by Sandy and Bobby, but he has been itching to tell them, and sometimes they don’t want to hear him. He’s just used the resources that were handed to him. 

The three were getting ready, walking to and from the bathroom and their respective rooms. Pat excused himself saying he had somewhere to go, and stood outside for a moment, the cold wind biting his cheeks as he clutched his phone in his hand. He and Eddie had agreed to walk together to prepare, and he was currently waiting on Edward to come downstairs. 

**< Tall and Leggy: On my way downstairs, don’t leave.>**

Pat replies with a thumbs up emoji, his stomach queasy with nerves for the first time ever. He’d decided to forgo the guitar tonight, figuring it was better to leave it rather than get questioned by Sandy and Bobby or them figuring everything out. They hadn’t found out by now, they could wait a couple more hours. 

_ “I won’t dance, how could I? I won’t dance. Merci beaucoup…”  _

“Thank you for this, Patrick, I know I’m not the best at clarinet, but I  _ am _ trying to get better.” Edward appears behind Pat, weearing a nice white button down shirt and blue tux jacket. The pants are the same shade as the jacket and white dress shoes. 

“Ed, I’m the one who should be thankin’ you for being so willing to do it for me. I know we haven’t always gotten along, but it still means a lot to me.” Pat knows he doesn’t do a lot of thanking and acknowleding what others do to help him, but maybe this can be the turning point. 

_ “I know that music leads the way to romance…” _

“So you’re going to sing for Bobby and Sandy?” Edward asks as they turn the corner to the diner  _ The Chum Bucket.  _

The food isn’t great, but Sheldon, the owner, holds music nights every Friday night for five dollars per person, so, it works out. Pat nods, wishing he had his guitar for comfort. “They don’t know I’m performing at all. I tried telling them, but they don’t listen sometimes.” 

Ed winces, a sympathetic look on his face. Pat doesn’t want to keep talking, but it feels so good to just admit things to someone. “I feel like they’d be better as a pair, istead of the three of us, y’know? But they always tell me they love me so much.” 

Ed nods, fiddling with the clarinet keychain on his keys. “I mean, you guys work well together. I never really thought Sandy would be into the two of you, but I’d always expected you and Bobby to be together, romantically and whatnot. I do think they care about you though. What song are you singing for them?” 

Eddy’s onstage currently, and Pat’s waiting in the wings of the stage, looking at the audience. Sandy and Bobby look at each other. They seem a little worried, but turn to watch the stage as Edward plays a slow, sweet song.  _ He’s improved, _ Pat thinks, proud of the effort his friend has put into music. 

_ “My heart won’t let my feet do things they want to do…”  _

Pat grows more nervous by the second, and he knows Edwards performance is coming to a close. He checks his phone really quick, as it’s blowing up with notifications. People are tagging him in all their posts, and a majority are speculating whether he has split with whoever they think he’s with. He drafts a response really quick. 

**< Pat-a-Rat-Tat: to all: Just wait… ;P>**

Sandy and Bobby are the first to clap for Edward, giving him an ovation. Pat thinks about how happy that makes him. Others follow, and Edward beams, bowing deeply and rushing offstage. “Oh Pat, did you see?” The starry-eyed man grabs Pat by his shoulders. “They gave me an ovation! They loved me!!” 

Patrick grabs Edward and hugs him, “I’m so proud of you man!! Congrats!!” 

Edward thanks Pat again, and tells him he’s going to pack up his clarinet and join Sandy and Bobby, and to wait for him to get there to start. Pat nods, and wathes his significant others as they scroll idly on their phones. He pulls his own phone out, reading the messages he’s gotten in their groupchat. 

**< Not-So-Simple: Pat where are you, we’re worried>**

**< San-dee: Patrick Starr, you better get your sorry butt here before I kick you>**

He has to refrain himself from laughing as his phone is flooded with messages from Bobby, who, from Patrick’s spot backstage, looks like he’s about tear the whole town apart in search for Pat. 

**< Super-Starr: Guys, quit worryin>**

**< Super-Starr: I’m just runnin a little l8>**

He can tell neither Bobby or Sandy are happy about this, and he knows they’re going to yell at him later, but he pushes past that thought. Edward approaches them and takes a seat, all smiles now. Pat smiles as Edward aims a thumbs up at the stage, knowing Patrick’ll see it, and both Bobby and Sandy’s eyebrows furrow in sync, and he can just barely here Bobby ask Edward what’s going on. 

Edward simply aims a smile and ruffles Bobby’s hair before shushing him. 

_ “I’m like an ocean wave that’s bumped on the shore…”  _

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, we are proud to present, the one and only, artist who has been gracing this establishment for months now…” Sheldon begins, holding a mic as Pat takes deep breaths, “Patrick Starr!” 

The crowd goes wild, and Patrick keeps his eyes trained on the shell-shocked couple as he walked onstage. “Hey guys!” He began, speaking into the microphone on the stage. Now he began to look elswhere. The tide was changing, things were finally shifting into place for him. 

“You all know I’ve been doing this for a while now, and I’ve always dedicated them to two very significant people in my life.” He was now pacing the stage, smiling as he gripped the mic. 

_ “But this feeling isn’t purely mental…” _

“Well, they didn’t know I’ve been singing, ‘til now. I tried tellin’ y’all!” He exclaimed, laughing as Bobby blushed. “Anyways, even though they sometimes don’t pay attention to me, I love them to pieces. That’s why I’ve finally decided to do this song. As you can all tell, I’m without my guitar tonight. Had to keep the secret going until I came onstage.” He laughed as the audience clapped. 

“Tonight’s performance is all thanks to Edward. Couldn’t have done this if he didn’t say he would perform before me.” Patrick took a deep breath, calming his nerves. “I’m singin’ to good ole Frank Sinatra’s  _ I Won’t Dance.  _ Those two are always asking why I won’t dance with them, and I think this serves as a good reason why, along with the fact that I’m not good at anything other than making music.” 

  
  


The crowd laughs, and Patrick smiles, glancing at Sandy and Bobby. Bobby looks absolutely enthralled, cheeks blushing a rosy color as he grins widely at Patrick. Sandy’s also smiling, but there’s an evil glint in her eyes, and Pat gulps, tugging at the collar of his shirt comically. “This might be my last performance y’all. She’s gonna kill me. Enjoy!” 

As Patrick sings, the audience sways. 

The last note plays out and the audience cheers, standing. “That’s my boyfriend!” Bobby manages to yell louder than the audience. And when the audience falls silent and turns to look for the guy claiming he’s Pat’s boyfriend, Bobby turns too. Pat laughs, and Bobby looks back at him again, red in the face. “Haha, Sponge, ever the theatrical nerd.” Bobby winks at him as the audience sits back down. Sandy’s still laughing, but she drags a finger across her neck, playfully threatening Pat. 

“Patrick Starr, why in the world would you do that? You done had Bobby and I just about to rip the town apart in search of you, you goof. And now,” She states, stalking toward him with an evil grin, “You. Are. Gonna. Get. It.” She jumps on top of him, tickling his sides. Bobby, always wanting attention, hops on the couch next to Pat.

“I told y’all…I can’t…dance.” Pat states between gasps for air. 

_ “So if I hold you in my arms…”  _

“You had me so worried.” Bobby joins Sandy with the tickling. 

Patrick could easily overpower them, he realizes. He wraps his arms around the two, sides hurting, bringing them close to him. “Sorry, guys, but I told you that I’ve been doing this. Y’all need to pay more attention to me!” 

“Sorry Pat.” Bobby apologizes, sincere and with a sweet smile gracing his face. 

“Yeah, Pat, sorry.” Sandy chimes, pinching his cheek with a grin. 

“That’s alright,” Pat looks at them, “now you know.” He pecks them each on the cheek. 

_ “I won’t dance!” _


	3. I've Got a Crush on You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok, last Frank Sinatra song (for now at least) because i had an idea with another artist. thats a surprise though, so stay tuned for that. i worked hard on this one, so enjoy!!

Bobby was at a family reunion and he was so  _ bored _ . This time, the reunion was at his grandmother’s house, and it isn’t that Bobby was without WiFi, it was merely that he had no one to really  _ talk _ to. He could talk to his relatives, but they all talk to him like he doesn’t even have a brain just because he decided he’d rather continue working as a fry cook in a “grease generator” as they like to call the Krustie Krabbe. 

But he loved being there, at the Krustie Krabbe it was like he was finally who he was meant to be. Well, mostly. Maybe when Mr Krabbes sees him as the adult—albeit young adult—that he is, maybe he’ll finally get the recognition that he deserves. His friends were the only ones who talked to him like he was an equal, even Sandy, even though he couldn’t understand half of her science jargon. 

And he craved one of those weird conversations with his best friend. But though his parents considered Patrick Starr family, Bobby’s family was insistent that only real Porous family members were allowed to join. So, he’d said his farewell to Patrick, who still wanted to get in the car with Bobby, and drove the hour and forty-five minute journey to his grandmother’s house.

He could faintly hear the soft jazz music drifting from the living room. He was alone at the moment, sitting on a bar stool in the kitchen, tapping his fingers on the kitchen as he laid on his other arm. Patrick said he had to go run some errands an hour ago, and Bobby’s been waiting for Pat to get back. 

Bobby had already scrolled through his Instagram feed, his Snapchat, his Tumblr, heck, even his Twitter, which he  _ barely _ ever uses. So now he's just kind of doing nothing, watching the black phone screen, willing Patrick to finally come back. 

But Bobby's been thinking in the time that he's had to do nothing. He's liked Patrick for a while now, and since there's nothing to entertain himself, he'll have to get creative. 

He's gonna song-lyric-prank Pat. Which is so 2018 in his opinion but maybe it'll be fun. He's gonna use something that Patrick should recognize, a Frank Sinatra song, specifically,  _ I've Got A Crush on You.  _

Now sitting up, Bobby grabs his phone and taps on Pat's message thread. 

**< Sunshine ☀️: How glad the many millions of Annabelle's and Lillian's would be to capture me, Pat.>**

Patrick takes a couple minutes to respond, and Bobby can almost see Pat try to understand what's going on, if the little " _ read" _ text underneath Bobby's message is anything to go on. 

Then the three dots pop up— 

**< PraisePink: uh im confused, grls r going after u???>**

Bobby smiles, tapping out the next chunk of lyrics. 

**< Sunshine ☀️: but you had such persistence, you wore down my resistance…>**

Bobby knows he has Pat's attention now, if the immediate typing is proof. Bobby decides now he isn't so bored anymore. 

**< PraisePink: im still not gettin it bud>**

**< Sunshine ☀️: I fell, and it was swell…>**

He knows that that message makes it sound as though maybe Bobby's hit his head a little too hard. Bobby glances around the room, just to check that no one's watching as he smiles at his phone. 

**< PraisePink: r u ok>**

**< PraisePink: u rn't concussed?>**

Bobby sends a quick 'nope' before moving along with the next lyric. This time, Bobby can't help blushing even though it isn't anything bad. 

**< Sunshine ☀️: I'm your big and brave and handsome Romeo, and how I won you over I shall never, never know>**

And yeah, so Bobby's adding a couple words into the lyrics, but it's only 'cause he wants it to last long enough for it to be fun. 

As the three dots appear again, Bobby leans in unintentionally, waiting excitedly to see what Pat's response will be. When he's sure Pat's almost done typing, his phone is suddenly gone, snatched out of his hands. 

Bobby looks up, bewildered. Then he spots his cousin Jack, or as they sometimes call him, Cousin BlackJack, an allusion to the numerous black eyes Jack has had through his adolescent years. Jack and Bobby are pretty similar in height, but whereas Jack is buff and muscular, Bobby isn't. 

"Jack," Bobby pleads, "give me back my phone. That isn't funny." He reaches for the device but Jack pulls it behind his back. 

"Uh-uh," Jack smirks, "let's see what you're up to that's keeping you from spending actual time with the family." Bobby blanches. "Jack, no. That's not fair. You know family is everything, I'm just talking to Patrick."

"Well, let's take a look, then." Bobby knows nothing he says will stop Jack, so he shuts his mouth and prays Jack won't tray and make an issue out of the situation. 

The evil glint in his cousins eye grew as he scrolled through the messages. "Oh this is pure gold." Jack chuckles, glancing at Bobby. "I wonder what'll happen if the family finds out." 

"No Jack, stop. I'm not messing around with you. Don't do this." 

Jack shrugs. "Nothin' I can do, cuz'." Jack glances at the phone again. "Jeez, this guy must be smitten with you Bobby, he's blowin' up your phone now." 

Bobby blushes and inwardly curses himself with words he'd never say out loud. This darned joke and his stupid boredom. He should've just waited until  _ after  _ the reunion to do this. 

"Tell you what,  _ Robert, _ " Jack smirks at Bobby, "tell me the next line, I wanna see what happens." 

Bobby sighs, tapping the counter. He knows he has to go along with this, maybe Jack will get bored and give up. 

"It's 'it's not that you're attractive, but oh, my heart grew active, when you came into view." Jack laughs, a mean one note  _ 'ha'.  _ "This is absolutely priceless, Bobby." Bobby’s eyes stung with tears, and he slid off his chair, garnering the attention of his cousin, who sighed heavily. 

“Bobby, you never let me have fun with these things. I’m not even being mean! Our relatives are all wondering where you are and why you’re all alone. This is just payback for me sticking my neck out for you.” Bobby thinks somehow this doesn’t make sense, Jack makes sure never to jeopardize himself, opting to throw others under the bus. Somehow, Bobby knows what he’s saying isn’t true.

But Bobby also knows himself, and he knows there’s a small chance that Jack  _ isn’t _ lying, so he walks over to Jack’s side so he can at least  _ see _ what’s going on. 

**< PraisePink: sponge, ur kinda small, not big ;p>**

**< Sunshine ☀️: It’s not that you’re attractive, but oh my heart grew active, when you came into view>**

**< PraisePink: ok that 1st part kinda hurt :,C >** **  
**

**< PraisePink: whats going on tho>**

Bobby bit back a grin at his friends statements, trying to put on his best poker face. “Bobby this guy’s smitten with you.” Jack exclaims incredulously. 

“No he isn’t, Jack, there isn’t even anything to suggest that. You’re just going crazy.” Bobby stammers his response, a little nervous that Jack could be right.

“Kid, are you insane? This Patrick guy is literally  _ flirting _ with you, and come on he’s concerned about you falling and hitting your head??” Jack does the sticking-finger-in-mouth bit to suggest his disgust at the two, and Bobby smiles. 

“Well, Jack, you  _ could _ always give me back my phone.” Bobby suggest, and rolls his eyes when Jack shakes his head. “Nope, I’m gonna help you.”

“Jack,” Bobby begins, “your ‘helping’ isn’t always so helpful, you know?” 

“I know.” In that instant, Bobby swears Jack looks like a villain, all dark shadows cast on his face from he doesn’t even know where, and an evil grin plastered on his face. 

Bobby knows he isn’t a bad cousin to Jack, so he doesn’t understand why Jack always has to pick on him, and Bobby knows that one of these days, he’s going to finally snap and finally get everyone to stop walking all over him. “C’mon, give me the next line.”

Bobby cringes “I’ve got a crush on you, sweetie pie, all the day and night-time hear me sigh.” He looks away in embarrassment when Jack laughs, “You chose the best song for this Bobby. Genius.” 

“Wow, he’s really waiting for you to respond, as soon as it sent it showed that he’d seen it. He’s already typing a response.” Bobby lifts up his head at that, intirgued as to what Patrick’ll say. 

**< PraisePink: w8, what?>** **  
**

**< PraisePink: srsly????? u’ve got a crush on me???> **

Bobby never expected he’d let out a sound as strangled as the one currently exiting his mouth, a mix of a groan and a scream. Perhaps a little dramatic, Bobby would drape himself on a couch if he could do so, or if he were back home, he would pack his stuff and skip town for a couple days. But now he’s stuck with facing the consequences. “And now, Bobby,” Jack pulls Bobby’s phone behind his back, raising the pointer finger on his free hand, “I must bid you adieu.” 

Caught off guard, Bobby puzzles over what jack might mean by that when Jack takes off  _ running _ . Ever alert, Bobby chases after him a second after. 

He’s too late. In the time it took for Bobby to chase after his cousin, Jack has managed to reach the bathroom and lock it behind him. Nevertheless, Bobby thrusts his shoulder against the door, hoping the old door will just give in. No luck. Of course, what else should Bobby expect?

It’s almost as though his world is shattering around him, because he knows whatever is happening between Jack and Patrick behind that door isn’t good at all. Right as he’s about to go run looking for a Bobby pin to pick the lock, the door swings open and Jack walks out. “Give it, Jack. Now I have to fix whatever mess you’ve stirred up. Again.” 

“Sure thing,” Jack replies and places the phone in Bobby’s open palm, much to his surprise. Jack just keeps walking, covering his mouth as he yawns. ‘ _ At least his parents taught him  _ that.’ Bobby thinks, spiteful as he aims the coldest glare he can manage at the back of Jack’s head. 

Now it’s time to lock himself in the bathroom and fix the damage. His message thread with Patrick has grown a lot despite Jack not being in the bathroom long. 

**< PraisePink: sponge?? U still there???? r u being srs rn???> **

Then, a reply from “Bobby.”

**< Sunshine ☀️: still here. Nah it was just a joke. I don’t like you.> **

Bobby face palms. That’s doesn’t even  _ look  _ like his text-speak. 

**< PraisePink: u don’t like me like ** **_that_ ** **? >**

**< Sunshine ☀️: I don’t like you at all Patrick.> **

Bobby can physically feel his stomach dropping. This is it, isn’t it? This is when his whole life simply  _ ends _ . 

**< PraisePink: oh this is a joke? Cos ur at a reunion, right>**

**< Sunshine ☀️: No I’m serious. You don’t deserve to be my friend.>**

**< Sunshine ☀️: and I know you like me, I have you pretty much wrapped around my finger. It’s pathetic, really> **

**< PraisePink: and that’s what you really think, huh?>**

**< Sunshine ☀️: Yeah, i don’t need you>**

**< PraisePink: well I don’t need you>**

Bobby falls to the ground, and surprisingly, with no loud thuds.   
  
**< Sunshine ☀️: Pat?>** **  
  
**

Two minutes pass. No response. Four. No response. Bobby waits ten minutes, hopelessly, as he waits for a response. Nothing. 

**< Sunshine ☀️: Pat?>**

**< Sunshine ☀️: Look, you don’t have to answer, but please just read these.>**

**< Sunshine ☀️: You remember my cousin Jack? BlackJack?>**

The little ‘read’ text pops up, so Bobby waits for an answer. Nothing happens, so he continues, desperately trying to get Pat to understand what’s happening. 

**< Sunshine ☀️: I was in the kitchen doing the song lyric prank, that was me. But Jack took my phone out of my hands. I wasn’t paying attention around me because i was trying to mess around with you.>**

Still no response. 

**< Sunshine ☀️: I swear, i didn’t think he was going to say those things. He just said he just wanted to participate.>**

**  
****< Sunshine ☀️: I don’t know why I didn’t think he was lying, Jack never changes. And then he ran to the bathroom and locked himself in and I couldn’t do anything but wait>** **  
  
**

The three gray dots pop on his screen, and it doesn’t take Patrick long to type out his response, mostly because it’s short. 

**< PraisePink: idk if i believe that.>**

Bobby’s heart cracks as his desperation grows. 

**< Sunshine ☀️: pat you have to believe me. You mean so much to me, so much that I don’t even know how to put it in words.>**

**< PraisePink: idk, can u maybe give me time>**

**< PraisePink: i know things usually dont affect me, but im actually rlly hurt rn>**

Bobby lets go of his phone, and it clatters on the floor, as he draws his knees to his chest and full on cries. Sobs—maybe that’s a better word for it. “Alright, Bobby ol’ boy, you gotta pull yourself together.” He wipes his eyes as he stands back up, a plan already forming in his head. 

“I gotta leave this place, I need to get to Pat.” He pushes the door open, hurrying down the hall. Bobby’s about to make it through the front door, too, the door opens, one foot on the porch, one step closer to Patrick.

“Robert Porous!” At the sound of his first and last name, Bobby turns, stopping abruptly enough that he almost falls forward. His mom is walking towards him, and lays a hand on her son’s arm. 

“Just where on Earth are you going?” She asks, “And why were you crying?” 

Bobby bites his lip as he looks at his mom, “I messed up, with Pat, and I need to go make things right. Please, let me go fix this.” His mom studies his briming eyes for a moment, the wind blowing wisps of hair across her face, and ruffling the sleeves of her baby blue dress. She glances inside the house quickly, as her hand slides down, setting Bobby free. 

She nods once, quickly, and steps back. “Alright. Go, go to him, but I didn’t see you leave, alright? I’ll try and keep them from saying anything.” The pair hug and Bobby’s mom steps inside again, quietly closing the door, maintaining eye contact with her son. 

He hops into his car, and drives off. He finally got his license, but because he’s failed it a  _ couple _ of times, he isn’t technically supposed to drive without an experienced driver for another month. But that doesn’t matter, all that matters is that he gets to Pat. 

He drives back to his beach town in silence. There’s no need for music when his brain provides enough chatter to drown out everything else. He keeps his eyes trained on the road in front of him, occasionally glancing at the speedometer and side mirrors, just like he should. 

He makes a couple stops on the way home. The first is to the nearest Target. Bobby carefully parks, and pretty much literally runs into the store, propelling himself forward with a cart. He scans the flower display and contemplates which one Pat might like before the lightbulb in his mind goes off. He races towards the Valentines Day aisle. The event is still a week away, and hopefully they’ll have exactly what he needs. 

Bobby nearly dances when he finds what he’d been looking for: chocolate roses. The delicate chocolate was wrapped daintily in red and green tinfoil. Bobby doesn’t even bother looking at the price tags, he grabs 20 chocolate flowers, and goes in hunt for his next item: ribbon. Once he gets to the crafts aisle, Bobby only knows he wants it to be something lacy. He’d thought maybe red, but now that he’d seen it up close, the red on red is too muted. 

He needs something that isn’t simple, something that’ll stand out. Scanning the rolls of lace on the shelves, his eyes keep going back to a dainty white lace. He decides it’s probably his best option, and heads over to the checkout, anxious to get to Pat right as the sun’s sets. Bobby’s in such a hurry that he nearly forgets his bag, this time literally running back to his car, gently setting down the bag on the passenger seat, and pulling out of the parking spot. 

**< PraisePink: hey, can we talk?>**

The message comes through while Bobby’s on the highway, his tongue poking out of his mouth only slightly as he pushes away his nerves. He’s never driven on the interstate highway before, so naturally he’s terrified. He doesn’t even glance at his phone, he’s on a mission, and it’s the most important thing to him right now. 

When he pulls the car off the interstate, it’s too stop at a chinese restaurant. He knows Patrick Starr better than he knows himself, and he knows Pat probably is craving chinese right now. Bobby decides even though he isn’t hungry, and can’t even stomach the thought of eating, he’d probably be hungry later, and gets himself some too. 

He’s now five minutes away, and each minute spent in the car feels like another hour passing by. The sky is bathed with those glorius golden rays of sun. Once he manages to safely park in front of the apartment complex, he takes a moment to wrap the roses together with the white ribbon. He carefully secures his own takeout box with some ribbon too, and slides it in his bag. Sometimes, you have to find solutions that aren’t necessarily optimal. 

He quietly makes his way up the stairs, pausing to read and answer Patrick’s text:

**< Sunshine ☀️: Sorry, got a little busy. Back now though.>**

He reaches Pat’s front door right as Patrick starts typing, and places down the bag of chinese takeout, laying the bouqet of chocolate roses on top of them. Bobby rings the doorbell and crouches behind a fake tree, right as the door swings open, heart hammering. 

  
  


He can just barely make out Patrick’s features as his face contorts in confusion and he bends down to pick them up. “Shoot!” Bobby yelps, realizing he forgot to write a note. As soon as he realizes he said it out loud, he clamps his hands over his mouth, peeking around the plant to check whether Patrick heard it. 

His phones buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. He knows it was Pat, he just barely managed to glimpse Patrick’s thumb hit the phone in his hand. “Bobby?” Pat calls out. “I know you’re there, you’re the only guy I know dorky enough to do something like this. Unless it was Edward. Hey Edward?!” 

“Whatever it is, the answer is no.” The muffled response makes Pat laugh, and nearly makes Bobby giggle. 

Pat picks up the bouqet and the takeout and walks inside, glancing around one last time. His eyes briefly stop where Bobby’s hiding, but he closes the door. Bobby knows he’s waiting. After a minute, Bobby quietly gets up and starts heading back down the stairs dejectedly. He can feel his bottom lip tremble, and he bites down on it. He may very well have lost his best friend. He lets the tears stream freely. 

He makes it to the threshold outside the building, glancing back briefly before sitting inside his car and pulling out his phone. 

**< PraisePink: i know im not the brightest but i just cant tell if ur telling the truth, maybe we need to just take some space>**

He places his phone on the console between the front seat and the passenger seat, and places his head on the steering wheel. Bobby’s so wrapped in his thoughts, and emotions he doesn’t hear the door open, or close for that matter. “Sponge.” comes the quiet whisper. Bobby still doesn’t hear it, so Pat places a hand on Bobby’s hunched shoulder. 

Bobby jumps, and an ungodly nasally gasp emits itself from his throat. His face burns in embarrassment. “Bobby, listen to me.” Pat states. “I know you’re the one who left the food and the roses.” Bobby opens his mouth, about to tell Pat to just forget about it, when Patrick shakes his head. “Listen. I thought maybe you were being honest with me before, and maybe you were just trying to get me to believe you. But then you left those chocolate flowers and the takeout—which is scary, how’d you know I’d been wanting chinese?”

“Pat—”   
  


“Anyways, my point is, in that moment, I realized you’d always been there for me, you do sweet things like this. It just wouldn’t make sense for you to be mean to me and then do something like that.” Pat grabs Bobby’s small hands in his, but Bobby doesn’t meet his eyes. 

His curly burnt orange casts shade over his eyes as he keeps his head downcast. “Pat, I need you to know that I’ve got—”

“I know. I figured it out after that last lyric that was sent to me. I had to go search the song to make sure, but I know music, and I knew that it was Frank Sinatra. To be honest, it’s a clever way to confess.” Patrick lets go of one of Bobby’s hands, and tilts the shorter man’s head up to face him. He gently sweeps the hair off Bobby’s forehead before reconnecting their hands. 

“And your cousin Jack was right. I am in love with you too. He’s also right in saying that you have my complete devotion, anything you ask, I’d do for you, because it’s you. Bobby, you’re my best friend, but you’re also the only person I’ve truly loved completely.” Bobby smiles, feeling like hell iced over, but Pat gets out of the car and Bobby willingly follows suit, locking the car behind him. 

Pat tugs Bobby close to him and Bobby laughs against Pat’s chest as the taller of the two wraps his arms around the other. They stay like that, their bodies as physically close as they can be, for a minute and a half. They each regard the other for a moment, before Bobby stands on tiptoe, and kisses Patrick. 

He whispers the words “I’ve got a crush on you.” 

Pat snorts, “Dork.”


	4. La Vie En Rose

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guys. I know. But Louis Armstrong is just amazing. And ok it isn't that long but school has been rough this past week and I'm dead tired but at least I finished it, so yay!!

Okay, so Bobby could admit when it comes to jazz, he doesn’t know a thing. Except Louis Armstrong, and even then, the only song he can name is “What a Wonderful World.” Bobby admires jazz, but he it isn’t the type of music he listens to regularly. If you asked him, Bobby would say he’s more of a slow love song type of guy. Or upbeat songs you can jump around to. He admires jazz, of course, because it must be so hard to play in that swing type of style. But it isn’t his first choice, that’s all he’s saying. 

So, when he was up at three in the morning, writing an essay that he’d pushed off until the last minute for one of his college classes, he figured he was in for some discovery. He just didn’t expect  _ this _ . He’d been stumbling through his playlists on his YouTube page, but nothing was working for him, nothing sounded right at that moment. So Bobby decided to go hunting for the song his soul apparently was looking for, figuring it was a reward for working for a straight hour on his paper. A small break, that’s all. 

He was searching, but none of the titles felt right to him, and then he saw it. The French song, La Vie En Rose, but with a twist. Louis Armstrong. A jazzy French love song? Bobby was curious, and before he realized what he was doing, the song was loading on his screen. 

The sound of a string bass registers in his ears, and the soft piano music entering a second later sends a pleasing shiver up his spine. He closes his eyes and leans back onto his mattress, feeling as though he were absorbing the music. In his mind’s eye, the song glowed a golden yellow, the typ of color you’d see before the sky changes color in the evening, mixed with the blue of the sky at that time of the day. And Bobby definitely noticed the way the background instruments came together to create an accordian style. It was breath-taking, and he was lying in bed. He wanted to share this with someone, but both his dorm roomates, Edward Telford and Patrick Starr, were long asleep. 

Now he didn’t even want to return to the paper anymore. He wanted to get up and do something. Dance, maybe? He’s not really sure, but now he doesn’t even wanna  _ look _ at that stupid document. So he merely listened along, waiting for Armstrong to join with his singing. He knew the singing was to come soon when the trumpet entered. Louis Armstrong, in Bobby’s mind, was never without his trumpet, and that made Bobby classify Edward Telford with Louis Armstrong. The tall and sometimes grumpy roomate was almost always seen with his clarinet, whether it be in it’s case, or sully assembled, carried in hand. 

Bobby thought for a moment about everyone always being rather rude to Eddie, telling him he didn’t sound good. Bobby thought maybe they ought to leave him alone, the man is learning, of course he isn’t going to be the best. Bobby shook his head, not wanting to associate the wonderful song with thoughts about people treating his friends unjustly. So he decided maybe it was better to not think at all. 

Unfortunately, that didn’t really work. A couple seconds after Armstrong’s voice begins to sing, Bobby sees the image of one Very Important Person behind his closed eyes. Patrick Starr. It’s not even that hard to explain. A little awkward, yeah, definitely. 

The issue was earlier, when the sun was actually shining, Bobby accidentally admitted he’d had feelings for his best friend. It was on of those heat of the moment things, the middle of a little bit of a heated argument. Fighting is one of those things Bobby hardly ever does, especially with Patrick. But he was just so stressed, and Pat wanted to go out and go somewhere with Bobby, but he had so much work to do. One thing led to another, and next thing he knew, they were going back and forth. 

It just slipped out, really. Everything spiraled out of control, and next thing he knew, complete silence settled over the apartment, the two fighting friends with eyes wide in shock. Bobby could remember the burn climbing his neck, his head snapping towards Edward as he interrupted the silence— “About time, I was wondering which one of you would be the first to admit it.” Bobby looked between Pat and Edward, wondering what the latter could possibly be suggesting, and walked to his room. He didn’t bother locking it, he figured no one would bother him then. Besides, he had to get ready for work at the Krustie Krabbe in a little bit. 

And he did have time to think about it. Through the homework he completed before his shift, through his shift, to know. He’d been thinking about it, thinking and thinking and thinking. And he still doesn’t know what he should do. He only knows he hates the awkwardness between him and Pat is unbearable. 

And of course, that put a damper on his light, golden mood of the jazzy twist on La Vie En Rose. Because it’s always been Parick who had been there for him, and Bobby supposes it was only natural that he fell for his best friend. The only thing is Bobby knows is that their friendship isn’t over, it’s the only thing currently comforting him. 

Bobby clicks the ‘loop’ button on the video so he won’t have to keep switching tabs to replay it. He sighs, trying to just finish this stupid paper as fast as he can, eyes blinking slower and slower as the minutes tick by. He’s just typed the last words and printed it, not wanting to get out of his bed, where he’s so warm and drowsy. He’s in a state of almost pure bliss, not wanting anything but to stay exactly where he is. 

And then he got out of bed anyways, figuring he’d forget if he didn’t get his paper now. He rubbed at his eyes as he padded down the hallway, lingering by Patrick’s door for the slightest moment.

He’d gotten the paper, and was right about to climb into bed regardless of the fact that his door was open. His eyes were shutting and his back was to the door. He was giving into that calm blissful oblivion when he felt the bed dip beside him. He groaned in protest, curling into his duvet covers even more. A hand combed through his hair, and honestly, it felt good, almost as though someone was combing all the stress away, replacing it with relief. “Bobby?” Came a whisper. Patrick. Bobby’s eyes cracked open slightly as he shifted to turn towards his friend. 

“Mmm…Pat?” Came his reply. 

“Yep, it’s me. I know…” Pat pauses for a second, “I know we fought earlier, but I don’t wanna fight anymore.”

“Me either. I’m sorry for just admitting that earlier, that wasn’t fair of me to do to you.” Bobby dimly realizes that he left the song playing, and it softly floated in the air between them as they both wondered what to say next. 

“But what if I felt the same way?” That made Bobby turn flat on his back. 

“What’re you talking about?” He asked, too sleepy to process any sort of hint. 

“Look, buddy I’m not good with words, or anything really. But I do know that I feel the same.” 

Bobby, both shell-shocked and on the brink of unconsciousness, scooched over in his bed and patted the now free space beside him. Patrick smiled slightly, laying back in the bed and gazed at Bobby, a couple questions in his eyes. 

There was no need for words between the two. As Bobby snuggled against Pat, the latter wrapped an arm around his friend—crush? It was instinctual through the many sleepovers the pair had had throughout their friendship, where they'd always somehow end up together, entangled in one another. Bobby tilted his head up just as Pat was lowering his head, and the two wound up accidentally sharing a kiss. 

The two fell asleep holding each other. Normally, Edward would roll his eyes at the mushy stuff and opt to go do his own thing, but even he thought it was too sweet a sight to pass up. Besides, blackmail was always good to have, and if anyone asked, that's what the photos were doing on his phone. 

It's la vie en rose, after all, and life in pink practically begs to be laced with romance. 


	5. Music to Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hey it has been like a week since my last actual upload. sorry for that, got a little too busy with school work. 
> 
> this chapter goes out to @afreerobin here on ao3 for suggesting the song Music to Me from the musical Who's Your Baghdaddy, AND for providing the inspiration to tie these two ideas!! 
> 
> if anyones got an idea, you can find me on lipsi under the name Miss. Lady WritesALot
> 
> there, you can anonymously suggest something if you'd prefer to suggest that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy one-day-late Valentine's Day but also not really because it's only two in the morning for me!!

_ “You are the banjo that I’m strummin’, the merry tune I’m hummin’, full of glee…” _

Bobby would say he’s not scared of much, but then he’d be lying. He’s been through what he thinks of phases of being scared: he was scared of the dark, he was scared of getting made fun of, he was scared of getting caught skipping school that one time, he was scared of getting caught in the endless trap of procrastination, among other things. 

But Bobby’s never really been scared of heights. Not until he’d had to climb a volcano that was about to blow. He’s always liked feeling lifted above the world, away from whatever issue might be plaguing him. Now everything’s changed, and he’s scared. He’s been jumpy, and it’s been a week. Bobby thinks he just needs to face this terror head on, that’ll fix it all. 

So here he is, alone at four in the morning. Pat had been sleeping over since the event, keeping an eye on Bobby. Press had been swarming his apartment, meaning that they couldn’t go anywhere, but they were fine with that. As Bobby tiptoed over the sleeping forms of the press, he noticed that the famous anchorman, Perch Perkins, wasn’t amongst them. He thought that was a good thing, everybody needs to recoup instead of slapping on a mask.

_ “You are the symphony that slays me, my melody that stays right in key…” _

So anyways, Bobby saw that same terrifying mountain from the same point a week ago, looming above him, and it’s almost as though he hasn’t ever left. But this time, he doesn’t have Sandy with him to ground him. His hands shake as he places him open palm on the grass and dirt. The mountain looks so peaceful for something that attempted to kill him not that long ago. 

Each step is premeditated, always checking to see if it’ll be the step to kill him. He gets ten feet up before he physically cannot move anymore, and collapses on an edge of the mountain that’s wide enough for him to sit on. Air keeps filling his lungs, he’s only inhaling now, and in the back of his mind he remembers he needs to exhale. Bobby quickly glances down before tilting his chin to look at the stars glittering in the sky. 

_ “You are music to me…” _ _  
  
_

No one was here to console him now, he truly was alone. And terrified, too. So terrified he started crying. It was like the world was closing in on him, darkness threatening to choke him. He desperately needed Patrick with him, but he can’t even move his arm to call him. He’s stuck, at four in the morning, watching as ocean waves lapped at the shore on the horizon, the palm trees swaying in the breeze, the chilled night air biting through his sweater. 

He wants to go higher, he can’t chicken out at ten feet, and so reluctantly, Bobby stands on shaky legs, breathing in deeply to try and stabilize himself, and started climbing yet again. Bobby kept his eyes focused on the rock directly above him, climbing higher and higher. 

“Bobby!!! Bobby!!!” Bobby froze at the sound of his name, clinging to the rock for dear life. 

He's too shaken at the presence of another person that he doesn't process who it is at first. He can feel a drop of sweat slide down the side of his head, and when his brain tells him it's his beloved best friend, Bobby almost doesn't believe himself. He takes a chance, thoughts focused on Pat now: "P-Pat?" The word comes out a whisper, and he feels the fear clawing up his throat again. He can’t stop though, there’s no where for him to stand without having to cling to the rock. 

He gulps; he’s at an impasse. He can climb a little more or he can cling to the rock and wait for help. And now that he thinks about it, it feels as though his hands are slipping. He could die after all. He mutters the same words he did when he had to reassure himself at the event last week, but the words feel hollow. They can’t console him like they did before, and the thought makes him panic. 

He scuttles upwards, in all senses of the word. His feet kicked at the air, feeling around for somewhere to put his legs, his eyes scanning around every few seconds for somewhere he can stop. It doesn’t take him a long time to find and area where he can rest. Bobby knows he isn’t even halfway up the mountain based on his memories of climbing this exact area. 

_ “You are the tone of my piano, my chortling soprano chickadee…”  _

“Bobby, what are you doing?!” Pat calls up to Bobby, who’s maybe fifty feet high. Pat’s voice is carried to him on the breath of a wind, strained and full of concern and love and all the good times with his best friend run through Bobby’s head in less than an instant. “I thought I could do it,” He shouts down to Patrick, who looks like a pocket-sized version of the actual Pat. “I was wrong. I don’t think I can get down. I’m scared.” 

Though he can’t see them, he can feel the goosebumps rise on his skin as his voice shakes in terror. He squints as Patrick turns around and looks at the town in the distance before stepping towards the mountain. Bobby’s shocked to his core when Pat starts climbing; and he's so worried for the one person he thinks he cares the most about. If something happens, it’s definitely Bobby’s fault; and what’s worse is he’d be so lost without Pat to guid him. 

“Patrick be careful!” He shouts down to Patrick, several times actually, and Pat just nods, focused on his one mission to get to Bobby. As Bobby panics, his subconcious releases a little song he wrote back in his senior year of high school. And with that comes a memory of his mom telling him to use what he loves to ground himself. His voice cracks once as he struggles to get the lyrics out of his throat. But they come out, and through his blurred vision, he can just barely see Patrick pause in the slightest bit. 

_ “You are the theme of my cantata, my masterful sonata in G…”  _

He’s nearer now, Pat is. He climbs closer and closer, and then all that’s left is getting down. Right as Bobby’s saying the last lines, Pat reaches him, and the two embrace. “Buddy, you scared me bad. Don’t just leave in the middle of the night like that.” Bobby feels the vibration of Pat’s voice in his bones as the taller of the two holds the shorter one’s head to his chest. Bobby tucked his chin against his chest, his cheek firmly pressed against Patrick’s chest. 

“I know. I’m sorry, I honestly thought I could get over it if I forced myself to.” Bobby mutters in response.

“It’s fine to still be wounded from the whole incident, I still wake up sometimes thinking that you’re out there climbing this mountain of doom.” 

The words come as a shock to Bobby, even though maybe he expected to not be the only one still affected by the catastrophic events that almost ended the town. 

_  
_ _“You are the guitar that I’m strummin’, the rhythm that I’m drummin’, full of glee…”_

And all this time, through thick and thin, through fights and happy times, it’s always been Patrick who was there for him. It was Patrick who persuaded him to apply to the Krustie Krabbe, just like it was Pat who convinced Bobby to throw the Eruptor Interruptor into the flaming, smoking mouth of the volcano. 

And maybe Pat wasn’t always the highest scoring kid in their class, but he was insanely wise when you really thought about it, and Bobby’s been through a couple relationships, never once realizing that he really should’ve been looking at Pat in a closer view. 

Bobby steals a glance at Patrick, heart hammering wildly. He takes a chance, though, and while Patrick is distracted by watching the sunrise in front of them, he leans over and presses a quick peck on Patrick’s cheek. 

_ “You are the symphony that sweeps me, the tuning fork that keeps me in key…”  _

Pat turns his head towards Bobby, confusion mixing with slow realization on his face. Maybe it’s because they’ve been in each others lives for so long, or maybe it’s because they’re meant to be, but it’s almost as though Pat can ready Bobby’s mind. Instead of saying anything, Pat simply wraps an arm around Bobby’s shoulders and draws him closer to his side, and leans his head ontop of Bobby’s. 

All is not fixed, Bobby’s still terrified, and Pat is still keeping a close eye on his best friend-slash-future boyfriend. But as the sun rises on their beautiful beach town, they know everything will probably be okay. 

The two sing the last lines of Bobby’s song together, softly, for one another and no one else.

_ “You are music to me, can’t you see?” _


	6. Flowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> yay you get to read this 5 page one shot that I just wrote. don't underestimate my power y'all. 
> 
> id also like to take the crown and become queen of nonstop writing. but ill wait.

Flowers. 

That's all Patrick can see littering the bathroom countertop and sink. Yellow and blue petals scattered about, some even delicately resting on the tiled floor. 

Stupid unrequited love. That was what had him rushing to the bathroom. It was a tickle in his throat that never really disappeared. Not to mention the fact that flowers were quite literally growing in his lungs. 

Okay, so many people assume Patrick doesn't really think of anything, but he does. Bobby, his best friend in the whole world, and crush of the past couple years. Although, now that Pat thinks about it, it could've spanned longer than a couple years. 

Anyways, that’s not exactly the issue. The issue is the flowers. He has to get rid of the pretty petals; almost all of them are splattered with drops of blood, and he doesn’t want anyone at all to know about this dilemma. 

Currently, there’s a box under his bed, almost filled to the brim with flowers and their petals. Patrick’s not really sure what he should do once it’s completely filled. Maybe start another? 

Regardless, the only way to stop the flowers from suffocating him from the inside, Pat has to gain Bobby’s love. And that’s apparently not going to happen. Bobby’s not really looking at Pat in a way that’ll calm the flowers, and besides, he’s in a relationship. Or was. Two weeks ago Bobby was in a relationship with some random guy Patrick doesn’t even remember, and came back to their shared apartment on the verge of tears. The night was spent in Patrick’s mess of a room, a red nose and puffy-eyed Bobby curled against Pat, clutching a tissue in his sleep. A tub of cookie dough ice cream discarded on the floor beside them. Pat had to fight relentlessly against the urge to cough up flowers, and ultimately failed, optin to sweep them under the pillow.

Bobby probably wasn’t even thinking about getting in another relationship, anyway. He spent yesterday finally getting rid of that guys stuff. He had Pat drive them to his one story suburban house while Bobby carefully scrawled a message on an index card. He wouldn’t let Patrick see what he wrote, and when he knocked on the door and ran back to the car, leaving the box on the doorstep, he had Patrick drive off. Pat wanted to see the guy, see the face of a guy who lost the best person to ever grace their beach town, maybe even the whole world. 

But he did what Bobby wanted. Drove them back to their small apartment, and had to cough into his left hand, pushing the petals in the pockets of his shorts. Bobby looked at him questioningly, probably ‘cause Pat just  _ kept _ coughing, but Patrick just smiled at him, a little sad at two things: the first being that he’ll never be the recipient of Bobby’s love, and the second being at Bobby’s slightly red nose.

And so now here he is, alone at night, in his bathroom, cleaning up the mess his lungs created. Or maybe it was his heart’s fault for falling in love in the first place. He shook his head, flower petals clutched in his hands. If he didn’t stop thinking about it, he’d just keep coughing the darn plants. No, the best thing to do would be to finish this task and  _ then _ maybe pop some popcorn and settle into his bed and maybe watch a movie. But not a rom-com. Something action packed, to take his mind off of a certain ginger-haired, short boy, with so much optimism it almost knocks Patrick down and out cold.    
  


He needs to watch that movie. What movie, though? There were so many options to choose from, but he was leaning more towards a Marvel movie, maybe one of the Avenger’s ones. Those were hardly ever focused towards romance, which made it perfect. “Pat?” Bobby’s voice made Patricks head whip towards his bathroom door in panic. 

“I- uh, I’m in the bathroom.” He stood up quickly to turn the lock. 

“Oh, okay! I was wondering if you maybe wanted to watch a movie or do something? I’m kinda bored.” Patrick can’t believe he let himself slip up this bad, he thought Bobby was sleeping, which gave him a chance to just let all the petals escape. 

“Yeah, of course…just let me finish cleaning this—” Shoot. Pat really messed up now. He could feel the blood draining from his face as his heart fell into the pit of his stomach.    
  


He heard Bobby’s footsteps approach the door, turning the knob in an attempt to open the door.  _ Good thing it was locked, _ Pat thought. “Pat? Did you throw up? Let me come in to help clean. I can also make you some soup? Or do you want water?” 

Pat half wanted to laugh at Bobby’s overreaction, but he bit his cheek instead, reminding himself of the situation he was in. This time, a whole flower came out. It was blue and yellow in some sort of marbled effect, and of course, drops of blood. “No, it’s alright, I got it.” His throat hurt. Usually it was just petals. A whole flower couldn’t be a good sign.

“Patrick, please just let me in. Please, I wanna help.” Patrick could hear the desperation in Bobby’s voice, which matched the desperation and panic he felt clawing in his throat. 

There was nothing he could do, he had to let him in. With a sigh, Patrick stood up, and unlocked the door, swinging it open. The whole time, the flower head was in his hand. Bobby flicked on the lights, flooding the bathroom in white light, and gasped. “Patrick? What…?” He turned and looked at Pat’s face, which was grim. “Is this…?” 

Patrick nodded. “It’s called the Hanahaki disease. When you love someone and it isn’t reciprocated. Flowers grow in my lungs and this is what happens, because they don’t love me back.” Patrick watched as Bobby looked at the flower in Patrick’s palm. 

Patrick started to say something when Bobby gingerly picked the flower off of Patricks hand, examining it closely. “Who is it?” He whispered, focused on the flower now, feeling the silky petals of the flower between his fingers. His blue eyes flicked towards Patrick when the latter didn’t respond. 

“Is it…me?” He asked, and Patrick nodded. There really wasn’t any other option for him but to admit. 

“But I know you just got out of a relationship and you don’t want anything. And I know you also don’t like me that way.” Upon seeing the broken look on Bobby’s face, he hurried to add, “It’s fine. Really! I’m okay with this.” 

“But Patrick—”

“No seriously, you don’t have to worry, it’s not so bad. It’s not that many, anyways.” Patrick could tell that Bobby was thinking about earlier in the car, about that night two weeks ago, about all those times Patrick coughed and wasn’t sick. Bobby was piecing everything together. 

“Patrick—”

“Don’t even think about it, let’s watch that movie. Now, which one did you wanna watch? I was thinking Avenger’s, but it’s whatever you want. I’ll go make some pop—” Bobby cut off Patrick’s train of rambling when he climbed onto the countertop, grabbing onto Patrick’s shoulders and bringing him so close to Bobby that their noses were almost touching. 

“Patrick, there are flowers in your lungs. I know about the disease. It all makes sense now. That’s why you kept stuffing your hand in your pocket earlier in the car. Everytime you coughed, you coughed petals, or flowers, and stuffed them in your pockets, right?” Patrick nodded, still looking into Bobby’s eyes.

“Oh, Patrick,” Bobby pulled the taller one into a hug, which Patrick confusedly reciprocated. “You should’ve told me.”

“But—” Patrick started to argue, but Bobby cut him off. 

“Patrick, I can’t believe this. I’ve been thinking these last two weeks about our friendship. I love you so much but you already knew that. But neither of us knew exactly how much, but I figured it out.”   
  


Pat’s head bobbed back, still confused. “These past two weeks have been so weird for me, but it’s always been you, you’ve always been there for me. And I couldn’t help but realize that every single time I got in a relationship, I always compared them to you. I didn’t notice I was doing that, and I couldn’t figure out why, either.”

“I don’t under—”   
  


“That was, I didn’t figure it out until I head this sound on TikTok earlier. It was a sound that was supposed to get you to realize who you truly love, and when I instantly thought of you, everything made sense.” 

Bobby stopped, taking a breath. “Look, I know I haven’t known about your feelings or my feelings but I do know that I love you so much. Everything about you makes me happy, and you make me look forward to the future. I just—”

Bobby’s train of thought was cut off by the feeling of Patrick’s mouth on his, and the flower fell to the floor. Patrick could feel the flowers in his lungs disappearing. He felt lighter, happier, and when the two broke apart, Patrick’s eyes were glassy. The two let the silence surround them, they drank up the mere attention of the other. 

Minutes passed by, and Patrick was stunned to find their hands touching. Pat was breathless at the touch of Bobby, and Bobby, who never took silence well, tilted his head down a little, looking up at Pat through his lashes and stated “So, about that movie….” Pat couldn’t help but snort and ruffle Bobby’s hair. “Dork.”

Bobby grinned, “You love me, though.”

“Yeah I do.” Patrick dragged Bobby off the countertop. “Just let me clean this up really quick, you make the popcorn.” Bobby nodded and left the room after placing a kiss on Patrick’s cheek. 

Ten minutes later, Pat was carrying the box of flowers and petals out of his room when Bobby asked to look. Patrick was reluctant, but seeing Bobby’s face pretty much begging Patrick had Pat sighing and setting the box down. Bobby held onto Patrick’s hand tightly as he opened the box’s top. “Oh Pat.” Patrick could see Bobby’s eyes tearing up. 

He knew Bobby was feeling guilty, but he didn’t know that Patrick was dealing with this, and Patrick was quick to share those thoughts with Bobby, who had to be drawn into a hug. “You’re so sensitive, sunshine.” Patrick said, and felt his face heat up when Bobby pulled away to look at Patrick with wide, enamored eyes. 

Bobby’s face was practically sparkling in Patrick’s opinion. The next thing he saw was Bobby sailing towards him, knocking Patrick over, and they laid on the ground. Well, Pat did, Bobby managed to catch himself, and held himself up over Pat’s face. He leaned in and quickly kissed Patrick before getting up, and claimed the popcorn wouldn’t taste as good cold. 

Patrick laughed, watching Bobby walk away, knowing he would always come back. Because they loved each other, and people who truly love each other will always come back, in Patrick’s professional opinion. 


	7. The Thief’s Prince (part one)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ok so aladdin au anyone? 
> 
> And much like Aladdin, there will be a Genie, so just be prepared for that

Bobby wouldn't be a thief if he really had any other choice. As it is, he’s simply doing what he has to in order to live, and keeping his friends alive. Instead, he’s known as a thief, a street rat, a sweet talking deceiver, and a lot of bad things he won’t repeat to anyone. Sometimes, it makes Bobby upset to know that other people think badly of him, he only ever tries to be the best he can be, but money is tight, and not everyone can afford it, or afford the reputation he’s made for himself. So he does what has to be done. 

He wishes people were kinder, or would at least see him as a robin hood of sorts, but that probably won’t happen. The only thing to comfort him right now is that no one but those closest to him are aware of his track record. They call him Acro, and where they got that name, he isn’t sure, but it’s better than them knowing his real name and calling for Bobby Porter’s head. Instead, they look for someone who doesn’t exist. 

So he wears a hooded cloak when he’s out trying to… _ shop _ . His boss, Eugene Krabbes, runs the Krustie Krabbe, a restaurant front for the true mission, in which Bobby’s managed to reach the top of the pyramid. Their mission is simple—steal from the fortunate and give to the unfortunate. Tomorrow, they’re supposed to attempt a theft mission from the palace, but Bobby isn’t really sure how they can do that without failing severely. 

Right now he’s in the marketplace, wandering through the crowded area, trying to see what he can manage to take without necessarily being noticed. The hood of his cloak is pulled over his eyes to shield him from the sun and to keep out prying eyes. Of course he only gets more stares, but there are several others with hoods up, and they’re normal people, so Bobby prays that no one suspects anything. 

There are apples, bread, cheese, pastries and so much more. There’s also some valuable-ish jewlery, but Bobby doesn’t dare try to steal those. He’s been instructed not to go that far, no matter how much he itches to. Bobby gets that they can’t really sell stolen jewlery at a restaurant, but they’d be able to sell it for more than it costs and use the money they earn to actually buy the things they need. Mr Krabbes just doesn’t listen to Bobby. 

He stops that train of thought before it can really take off, and unhooks his bag. He’s preparing himself for an easy grab-and-go. Today was a good day to hit the markets, it’s so busy they might not even notice him. Bobby inches himself towards the apple stall, inspecting the red and green and yellow fruits. His acting skills kick into effect when he brings a pale arm towards the apples, running a short finger over their unblemished skin. When he’s sure no one’s looking anymore, he tosses four apples in succession into his bag, before slowly walking away. 

No matter how many times he does this, his heart always pounds rapidly when he walks away. He knows it’s wrong to steal in theory, but is it still bad if he’s doing it for a good cause? He figures maybe it’s some sort of paradoxical situation, doing the right thing even though it’s wrong in the basest of its theories. 

Regardless, no one shouts at him to stop, and he hits up the next stall: bread. He operates this one exactly like the apples. Inspect, touch, and once the coast is clear, take. Maybe Bobby gets a little too confident with his abilities. He’s on his seventh loaf of bread when he hears the familiar phrase “Stop, thief!” 

Rolling his eyes, he takes off running, closing his bag hurriedly. He weaves through the throng of people, hoping to lose the guard that caught him, but every time he thinks he’s shaken them off, a new guard joins. It’s like running instantly means you’re guilty for something. Bobby can hear the guards barking at one another that it’s him, or rather that it’s Acro. Same difference, he supposes. 

His bag thumps against his leg, and his hood blows almost all the way off his head, but no matter how bad the stitch in his side gets, he doesn’t stop. He can’t, uness he wants to lose everything he just got. Bobby runs into a random building, up the stairs, into a random open door. He slows for a moment, trying to be as quiet as he can to throw any authority figure off his metaphorical scent. Bobby can hear them running up the stairs, their boots pounding out the beat to an unheard melody. He stops, fanning himself with a hand, before rushing to the window. The guards footsteps and yelling are quieter, but it’s only a matter of time until they have to come back down.

He thinks of the fabled Aladdin, the thief turned prince, many kingdoms over, somewhere called Aghraba. Maybe Bobby looks up to the guy a little, but only in a “he turned his life around” kind of way. Bobby can hear them coming back down, and scampers out the window, scaling the wall as fast as he can. In hindsight, maybe he should have gone down instead of up. 

On the roof is a blanket that’s rather big, and Bobby immediately knows what he ought to do. Whether it’ll work or not is another thing, but life isn’t fun if you always play by the rules. He grabs the corners of the blankets in his hands, and hopes that it works as a makeshift parachute. No time for second thoughts, he gulps, and runs, leaping off of the rooftop. 

And of course it works. Well, he doesn’t plummet to the ground, so it’s a success in his mind. He takes off running toward the Krustie Krabbe, mentally patting himself on the back for his quick thinking. Bobby notices the guards watching him from the roof he once stood in when he glances over his shoulder, still ordering him to stop. 

They really think he’ll stop when he pretty much succeeded? He laughs to himself, it’s honestly just a foolish way to think. He’s won, that’s it. 

He slows down and takes the cloak off as he nears the Krustie Krabbe, folding it up nicely before entering the establishment. Krabbes waits for him in front of his office door. Bobby knows the drill by now, and just breezes into the room, taking a seat in the velvet chair. “So.” He says, folding his freckled arms, relaxing now that he’s safe. His bag lies on the ground next to him. 

Krabbes doesn’t bother waiting for Bobby to hand him the bag, he snatches it off the floor and looks inside. “Four apples, seven loaves of bread.” Bobby states, proud of his accomplishment. It’s the most he’s managed to take in one go. 

“Good job, me boy. This is why you be the one at the top of me recruits.” Bobby shrugs, but can’t resist a small smile. 

“Anyway, that ain’t the only thing I want to talk to y’a about, boy.” Krabbes sits down behind his desk, hands fidgeting with a pen. Bobby leans forward, thoroughly intrigued. 

“About the attack on the palace tomorrow, yer the one that needs to go in.” Bobby feels the shock running through his veins like electricity. 

“What—me? But I thought… ” Bobby trails off. He’d thought about the mission before, and he wanted to be the one to go inside, but he didn’t expect to actually be chosen to go inside. 

“Look boy, you’re the only one fast enough, and you’re also the only one of my recruits who’s innocent looking. No one will suspect you, boy.” Bobby nods, stomach in knots. 

“Alright, so what’s the plan?” He asks. 

“We send you in tonight, dressed as a servant. But you are not to interact with anyone unless absolutely necessary, boy. You get too cocky sometimes, but the stakes are high for this one.” Bobby blushes and looks at his shoes. It’s true, though. He does get too sure of his abilities sometimes. 

“You are to tend to the prince and when he’s sleeping, take whatever might be valuable. You know that part of the drill. You fill up your bag, your pockets, everything that you can. We’re taking the money and giving it to the people boy, but only after we make sure our organization has enough to satisfy our needs.” Bobby nods, tended at the thought of the prince. 

Once upon a time, when Bobby was just a little boy, the prince would wander the streets of the kingdom. That’s where they met. The two became fast friends in the way children usually do, and had loads of fun despite their different backgrounds. 

But then prince Patrick’s mother died. After that, the prince hasn’t been seen again. It’s been ages since Bobby last corresponded with the prince, and he wonders if prince Patrick remembers him. 

Bobby’s never told anyone about this, and he poses a risk by showing his face around the prince at all, but Krabbes wants him to do this. And so he will. 

Later, when the shop closes, Bobby heads to the living area he shares with Sandy and Edward. Sandy’s a girl, and she’s really funny and she’s good at using her body as a weapon. Edward has less tolerance for Bobby, though. Bobby isn’t really sure of Edward’s skill set. 

He has a moment to rest before he has to set off to infiltrate the palace, so he naps, and after that, he puts on the disguise Edward had managed to get him and leaves. 

He scales the palace walls with a little bit of difficulty. They’re smooth walls so he doesn’t have much to grab onto, but he manages to climb it with relative ease and jumps down once making sure the coast was clear. 

He smooth’s out his uniform and walks on the palace pathway. He has a layout of the palace on a small piece of paper. It’s a simple drawing with the names of each room simplified by the removal of their vowels. It’s a shorthand way of writing that Bobby has found to be rather useful. 

“Hey, you!” Bobby stops in his tracks, and turns around. He recognizes the voice as one of the guards from earlier that day, but he tells himself to remain calm. He was cloaked, there’s no way he’d know that Bobby was the thief. 

“Yes sir?” Bobby replies, trying to appear as innocent as he can. 

“I haven’t seen you before. Do you have any form of identification on your person?” Bobby shakes his head. 

“No sir,” he begins, making his eyes tear up to sell the act. “I don’t come from much money and I applied for this job a while back. I only recently got approved. The king took my only form of ID and promised he would return it but he still hasn’t.” 

He sniffs, mentally crossing his fingers that this works. “I didn’t want to bring it up for fear that I’ll lose the only way I can earn a living, and my friends are very sick, I can’t afford to lose my job.” The guard looks at Bobby suspiciously, but ultimately nods, allowing him to leave. 

Bobby makes sure to profusely thank the guard before continuing on his mission. He hooks a left, then a right, and then another right before walking straight for what feels like forever, but eventually he stands face to face with an oak door. 

He knocks, waiting to hear his invitation inside before he enters the room. Prince Patrick, in Bobby’s eyes, is a sight to behold, and in a good way. He stares a moment too long before remembering to curtesy, and he can feel his cheeks heating up. “Do I…know you from somewhere?” Prince Patrick asks, his head tilted slightly. “You seem so familiar.” 

Bobby looks at him for a moment before replying “My name is Robert, but everyone calls me Bobby.” Patrick nods, eyebrows still furrowed in thought. 

“Well, Bobby, I don’t really need anything right now, but I do know it takes forever to walk all the way over here from wherever you must have been here in the palace, so you are welcome to stay.” Bobby nods, silent for maybe the first time in his life, and he can’t help thinking Edward would so appreciate Bobby being quiet. 

He takes a seat on the ground, looking up at the prince. “So,” Patrick breaks the silence. “What do you do for fun, Bobby?” 

Bobby has to think about that for a moment. He doesn’t really do anything he considers fun. It’s all in the name of survival. “I don’t do anything fun, I run errands in the marketplace sometimes.” That, Bobby thinks, isn’t a lie. He just chose not to tell the whole truth. 

“What’s the marketplace like?” The prince asks this with such intensity that it takes Bobby back before he remembers that Patrick hasn’t seen the outside world in quite some time. 

“It’s not really that interesting, Your Highness. There was a thief today, though.” 

“Did you see this thief?” 

“Not really.” Bobby feels bad lying through his teeth like this but he has to throw Patrick off any suspicion he might have against him. “They call him Acro, though that likely isn’t his real name.” 

The prince is full of questions, it seems. “What does Acro look like?” 

“I’m not really sure, they wear a cloak and always have their eyes covered. The guards haven’t caught him once. I caught a glimpse of Acro once, though. He doesn’t appear like a thief, from what I remember.” Bobby’s practically boasting now, and he has to scold himself internally. He’s getting too cocky, this is what Mr Krabbes was worried about. 

Prince Patrick regards Bobby with a curious smile, as though he knows something. “Oh really?” 

“I mean,” Bobby stammers, nervous now. “I mean that’s what I think? I can’t be sure.” The prince is onto him and he’s gonna face execution. 

Patrick studies him, nodding thoughtfully. “Well I want to leave the palace. I haven’t seen the outside world in ages.” The prince’s eyes light up. “Oh! I used to know this great boy, he also went by Bobby! Maybe you know him?” Bobby blushes and looks away, unsure of how to respond. 

“Well…I think—er I mean, it was me?” He doesn’t meet the prince’s gaze, and the heat that courses through his body is nearly unbearable. 

Neither the prince nor the thief say anything for a couple minutes. “Well how have you been, then?” Prince Patrick asks, a gentle smile on his face. 

Bobby answers as honestly as he thinks he can without confessing his crimes: “Money’s been tight across the kingdom, we’ve all essentially been scraping by, and I mean, the thieves have been making the kingdom a little unsafe. But I’m fine, really.”

“Yet you work for your money and food, correct?” Bobby’s sure this isn’t some random question. He’s convinced the prince knows, or is starting to be aware of Bobby’s background. 

“Yes, Your Highness,” Bobby begins, pausing to think of what else he can say. “I work at a dining establishment named the Krustie Krabbe, and I can manage to get by with the meager wages I earn.” Upon seeing the saddened face of the prince, Bobby makes sure to add “But it’s honest work. And life in a palace? That must be wondrous!”

The prince lets out a one syllable laugh, turning his head away from the thief. “Yeah. There are rules galore, and no one who’s actually a friend in here. It’s so lonely here. I want to leave.” He can practically see the wheels turning inside Patrick’s brain. “Oh, you could sneak me out!” 

“I—what?” Bobby asks. 

“You could sneak me out of here, and take me to the marketplace. That would be great.” Patrick claps his hands together, beaming at Bobby in such a way that he feels inclined to say yes.

“I don’t know if I can do that, I’ll have so many chores to work on here—“

“Oh please, I know you’re the thief they call Acro. I’m not that dim. Not to mention you talked about working at a restaurant. Anyone working for the palace knows this is the only job allowed!” The prince looks smug as he knows he’s beaten Bobby. 

“If you don’t take me outside these walls, I will yell for the guards and tell them exactly who you are, and say that you confessed everything to me.” Bobby mulls over his options, and decides to pull out this emergency card of his sweet talking. He usually only does this when he knows he’ll get caught otherwise, and that only happens when he’s wearing his cloak. No one he knows has ever seen him do this, but Bobby guesses maybe Patrick will have to be the first. 

Bobby stands, and Pat follows suit, scrambling off his bed and standing beside it. Bobby leaps up on the edge of the bed frame, careful not to get his shoes on the clean bed, and brings his face inches away from the prince’s. The prince looks at Bobby with wide eyes, and Bobby smirks back, tossing caution to the wind, and grabs the prince’s chin with his hand. Bobby’s curly hair sits a little over his eyes, but he doesn’t bother moving it. Maybe it adds to the effect. 

The prince practically radiates warmth, one Bobby can’t say he’s ever felt before, but it’s so great of a feeling that Bobby practically revels in it. “You wouldn’t tell anyone.” He states this with such an air of confidence it takes him by surprise. “Right?” the prince nods, cheeks flushing a delicate pink. 

“I didn’t think you really meant you’d hurt me like that.” Bobby added on. “Your sweet little Bobby would never think you’d hurt him.” He internally cringes. Every time he says that line, he always cringes. It’s just so  _ cheesy _ . He cups the prince’s cheek with his hand, and his blue eyes meet Patrick’s brown ones. 

“No, I…” The prince blinks, “I would never hurt anyone.” Bobby leans away, satisfied, but still maintains the same air he had been. 

“That’s what I thought.” He leaps off the bed frame and takes the prince’s hands in his own. “Now then, I’ll take you outside the palace walls, but not because I’m afraid you will tell anyone, but because I genuinely feel bad. First, though, we must wait till everyone’s asleep.” Patrick shakes his head and nods once. 

“Only one problem with that.” Patrick points out, and Bobby’s smile falters. “The guards have shifts. They switch off every four hours.” 

“I’ll take care of that, don’t worry.” Bobby says this so confidently, even he believes it. 

“You aren’t going to murder anyone, right?” The prince cautiously asks Bobby this, and honestly, Bobby would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt a little, even if he deserved it.    
  


“No! Of course I’m not gonna murder anyone!!!” He keeps his voice lowered, “I’m just a petty thief, not a murderer.” The comment stings, though. Bobby knows the prince doesn’t have a reason to trust him, but it still hurts. He removes his hands from Patrick’s and pivots, marching to the door. “I’m gonna go figure out how to do this, you…stay put.” He says as he opens the door. 

“Robert—Bobby, wait!” The prince rushes towards Bobby, and pushes the door back closed. “Don’t go. I’m sorry that must have been really rude.” 

“No, you’re right. You haven’t seen me in so long, you don’t even have a reason to trust me, technically. You being suspicious of me is a good thing.” Bobby’s just not used to people being suspicious of him, but that’s not Patrick’s fault. “I just gotta go figure all this out.” 

“So let’s figure it out together!” Patrick exclaims, clinging to Bobby’s arm. He seems so desperate for a friend, and Bobby can’t find it in himself to leave. He sighs and nods, allowing himself to be dragged to the prince’s bed. 

“Alright. Where are the guards in the daytime?” Bobby pulls his map of the palace and opens it, placing it on the bed for Pat. 

“Hm. They usually stay towards the front gates and with my father. They’re supposed to accompany me too, but they don’t, which is good.”

“Okay so what I’m understanding is the whole back area is essentially clear?” Patrick nods, and Bobby can feel an idea forming in his mind. “Right. I’ll meet you over at this back wall,” he places a finger on the paper, “tomorrow at noon exactly. No sooner, no later.” When Patrick nods, Bobby simply nods back. 

He’s managed to get completely distracted by his mission, all because of the prince. Truthfully, Bobby would be lying if he said he wasn’t quite enamored by the prince, but just ‘cause Aladdin wound up marrying Jasmine doesn’t mean Bobby will have the same luck. 

“Now, I seriously do have to go. I need to maintain a disguise.” Bobby practically leaps off the bed, trying to show off a little. 

He bows real low, “Good night, my prince.” 

Patrick nods, distracted and pink in the face, and Bobby winks before heading out the door, feeling much too confident in his abilities. Now, time to get on with the mission.

He heads inside the building, which interestingly enough, is quite cold despite being the middle of the summer. Bobby walks through the first room he finds, and opens all the drawers and cabinets. Nothing of much value, which is stupid. It’s the palace. Shouldn’t the knives be made of diamond and the bread dusted with gold? He shakes his head and grabs some silver knives anyways. 

Of course, he’s already strapped with a dagger, but there’s no harm in a little extra protection. Bobby goes from room to room in this manner, ears alert for any sort of noise. No one comes though, so he figures he’s safe. 

And then he comes across a dainty locket that is encrusted with emeralds. He pockets it for himself, intrigued. 

Eventually, he scrambles up the palace walls again, loaded with a bagful of semi-valuable items. And the locket, of course. It feels wrong, though. He knows Patrick, and the prince doesn’t suspect Bobby of robbing them. Maybe he doesn’t have to know that Bobby was the one who looted the palace. He will have to drop off the items with Krabbes and head back, insist on staying with the prince. A solid alibi. They can’t accuse him if he was with the prince. 

“Mr Krabbes, it was a success!” He calls, cloak still draped on him. He put it on at the palace, in case he got caught. The restaurant is abandoned at this time in the night, but Krabbes calls out to Bobby, telling the boy to go to his office. Bobby complies, and strides into the office, grinning past the guilt he feels. 

“Good job me boy, I knew y’a could do it. Any issues we gotta take care of?” Bobby shakes his head, even though there potentially could be. 

“I gotta head back though, boss man, otherwise they might suspect me.” Krabbes freezes at that, but nods, warning Bobby to keep his guard up as he leaves again. 

He knocks on the oak door again, and enters again, brushing the dirt stain from when he toppled over the wall on his way out. “You’re back!” Patrick exclaims, and the glee on his face makes Bobby’s heart pang in guilt. 

He nods, “Yeah, I finished my task, so I figured I’d come back.” The prince claps happily and beckons Bobby forward. 

“You’re clothes are dirty and so are you.” Patrick states matter of factly. 

“We aren’t able to bathe ourselves often in the outside walls. The last time I bathed must have been last week.” Bobby reminds himself not to get angry at the thought of how wasteful it must be to bathe every day. 

“That’s terrible. You’re free to use my washroom, if you would like to, that is.” Bobby’s eyes instantly widen at the offer and he nods shyly, slightly embarrassed at being offered a bath.

The prince shows Bobby to the room, which is complete with a marble tub with gold feet. Patrick excuses himself, and Bobby strips, stepping into the tub as it fills up with water. 

He takes the locket out of the outfit lying on the ground, and dunks it under the water in an attempt to clean it. Bobby’s fingers rub at the gold base of the locket. The emeralds glimmer under the light of the kerosene lamps. 

Bobby squints, because if he’s seeing right, it seems that there’s green fumes exiting the locket. A silhouette appears before his eyes, the same deep green of the emerald, but he has to bite his tongue to keep from screaming when yellow eyes meet his. “Greetings, Robert Porter.” The thundering voice resonated through the room and Bobby shushes the mystical form. 

“I am so dead.” Are the only words that managed to exit the boy sitting naked in the tub. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. The Thief’s Prince (Part Two)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Welp I wasn’t anticipating having to write a part three but it’s gonna have to happen :P

“I am so dead.” Are the only words that managed to exit the boy sitting naked in the tub. 

“Uhm, I’m sorry but you just came out of a locket and I’m naked. So, uhm, who are you exactly?” Bobby asks, trying to stay calm, thankful for the bubbles covering his less appropriate areas.

“Ah, excuse me, Mr Porter. I am Sheldon Copepod, and I am the powerful being that haunts this locket. I am a genie and I am here to grant you three wishes of whatever you may desire, whenever you desire.” Bobby has to think about this one. 

“Wait. I’m getting major vibes that you’re the type of genie that takes everything literally. And doesn’t copepod mean shrimp?” The genie looked a little bothered, at Bobby’s questions, but answered them regardless. 

“Yes, and yes. If you absolutely have to know, the last genie of this lamp had a curse put upon him, and I was foolish enough to trade spots with him, and then the curse moved to me.” Bobby hates the feeling of being enclosed in a space, and so naturally he feels bad for Sheldon. 

“How long have you been stuck in there?” Maybe he’s being too forward, but he really feels bad. 

“Two decades.” Twenty years? That’s only one year older than Bobby, meaning that Sheldon has been stuck there for the entire duration of Bobby’s life. 

“So I get three wishes?” He’s already thinking of what he might want, but he also knows that if he were the one trapped in there, he’d want his freedom. He’s gonna free Sheldon. But he isn’t going to tell him that just yet, just in case he tries to pull something. 

“I believe that is what I said, yes. Now, do you wanna make your first wish or not? I’m a very busy genie.” Bobby contemplates asking exactly how someone trapped in a locket could have so many things to do, but he thinks better of it; pissing off something more powerful than you probably isn’t the best idea. 

“I’m not exactly sure what I should wish for.” Sheldon sighs, and Bobby swears he hears him mutter “how did I get stuck with such a stupid kid?” which makes bothers Bobby a little. He is not a kid anymore, he’s a criminal. And criminals are too weathered to be considered kids, regardless of age. 

“Kid, I can do just about anything you want me to do.” Sheldon is quick to add on when he sees Bobby’s eyes widen with all the possibilities. “Within limits, of course. I can not and will not kill anyone, bring anyone back from the dead, or make anyone fall in love with you. That last one would just be cruel.” Bobby’s cheeks flush at the last part, instantly thinking of the prince, even though that’s just stupid. 

Everyone knows the prince would never love a criminal, it’s just plain strange. And yet, Bobby still can’t help but fantasize, even if it would never work out. He’s going to get hanged for his crimes if anyone figures out his true identity, and even though prince Patrick knows, Bobby figures he’s probably the safest one to have found out. Childhood friends, and all. 

“Okay, well I don’t need anything now, and it seems wasteful to use a wish on something when I could be in danger later, so I don’t have a wish right now.” The glare sent his way by the being makes him add a ‘sorry.’ He’s really not trying to be cursed tonight. 

The genie disappears back into the locket, accidentally knocking something over. It clatters on the floor, and Bobby cringes each time it makes contact with the floor. Bobby next hears footsteps rushing towards the door, and three and a half knocks. “Are you alright?” The prince asks, his voice slightly muffled by the door. 

Bobby nods, head still whirling from everything going on, and it takes him a moment to realize Patrick can’t actually see him. “Uh, yeah! Just knocked something over accidentally.” 

He decides he’s probably been in there long enough, so he drains the water out of the tub and dries himself off and redresses in his dirt-stained clothes. When Bobby exits the bathroom, he sort of just stands awkardly in the room, freezing but not wanting to say anything. He’s taken enough, he thinks. A locket, a bunch of semi-valuable to valuable items, he literally robbed Patrick the second he turned away and was able to. Bobby’s such a bad person. 

His stomach feels as though it’s in knots, and he’s kinda concerned he’s gonna throw up, but then Patrick looks over, and leaps out of his bed excitedly, a gleeful look in his eye. “Yay, you’re back—wait, are you okay? You look like you’re gonna be sick. Come, lie down on my bed?” He asks, pushing the shorter boy towards the bed, a hand on Bobby’s back, and it burns Bobby through his shirt; it makes him feel even worse. 

So he walks. Not because he thinks he should lie down, but because it’s the only way he can stop himself from either freezing up completely, or bolting out the door, away from here, from this kingdom. Maybe he ought to do that anyways. Rid the kingdom of the petty thief known as Acro. 

Bobby’s mom used to tell him that he was born with an extra sensitive heart; she told him that the emotions people felt, he felt on a deeper level. But for a majority of his life, he’d only felt happiness. He felt that glittering emotion, sparkling like a diamond submerged in a lake in the afternoon. And this feeling of overwhelming guilt is choking him from inside his body. He’s repelled by it, and even though he just bathed, he feels dirtier than he did before. 

The bed is indescribably soft, and the pillows even softer, and Bobby knows if it weren’t for his current predicament, he’d be out cold in a matter of minutes. He’d give anything to fall into that peaceful oblivion right now. “Why are you being so nice to me?” He asks. “I’m a thief, and I’ve deceived so many people.” Patrick sighs, but his back is towards Bobby, so he can’t see the prince’s expression. 

“Doing whatever you must to keep you and your loved one’s alive is hardly a crime. In my mind, it cancels out the crime.” Bobby turns around, cheek pressed to the pillow, and closes his eyes. That statement won’t hold when Patrick finds out they were robbed. He’s going to instantly know it was Bobby, and then probably have the king sentence him to life in the dark dungeon. 

He mutters something along these lines, and Patrick whirls around. “Did you say something?” He asked, and Bobby gets the feeling that the prince is ready to argue with Bobby on this. 

“I said that wouldn’t be your outlook if you were one being robbed.”

“Maybe not, and you’re right because I’ve only ever lived with money, I’ve never been robbed—” Oh, the irony, “—so maybe you are right. Maybe I would hate you then. But I have the money, I have everything I need and more. I don’t see why we don’t give money to the people, to be honest. It really doesn’t make sense.”

Bobby’s left speechless for a moment. He’s never met someone who was so nonchalant and uncaring about his money. He really should have _ asked _ , but that would have been embarrassing. Bobby has to go get the stolen items and return them before anyone finds out. But how can he just excuse himself? He slides off the bed, “I need to go, I forgot I had to do something for my boss.” He imagines the words spilling over his shoulders as he rushes out the door. A knot is in his gut as he runs, his feet pounding on the pavement, pushing him forward. Each step fills him with more and more hope. 

The doors to the Krustie Krabbe clang open, but Bobby barely flinches. “Mr Krabbes!” He calls out. Surely he’s left the restaurant, it’s late in the night. He checks his office anyways, hoping against all odds that Krabbes is there. 

No luck. He grabs a couple of burgers and bags them before heading back out. He's gotta check out Krabbes' house next. The house is small, painted black and white, and Bobby knocks on the wood door. He knocks every couple seconds, desperate to fix his mistake before it gets noticed. 

"What is it, boy? You be knockin like some Savage beast be nippin at your heels."

"Mr Krabbes, we made a mistake. We need to go return all the stuff from the palace. The prince—" Krabbes cuts Bobby off quickly, pulling him in the house harshly. 

"You got found out by the prince? And yer here, compromising me situation?" Bobby inwardly groans. 

"You don't get it, he's not like the king he said he'd give people money if they needed it. We can just ask him for money!" At the mention of money, Krabbes pauses, giving Bobby hope that his boss will give in. 

But then he shakes his head. Because of course he would. "No me boy! It's a good idea in theory but he won't be that open with his money once you ask." Bobby's head drops and he looks at his shoes, silently angry. 

"Besides, it wouldn't keep us going for long. We got mouths to feed, boy-o, and we can't keep asking the prince for money." He adds in a softer tone. 

Bobby sighs and watches as locks of his strawberry blonde hair bounce. "Alright." He replies, turning on his heel. He leaves with a muttered goodnight, and doesn't look back.

The bag of burgers is still clutched in his hand, forgotten but not unwanted, and Bobby keeps his eyes carefully trained on the horizon, pushing out all his thoughts. The palace looms over him, looking more daunting than it previously had, but Bobby scales the wall anyways, miraculously unseen yet again. 

He trudges toward the prince's room, heart in his stomach. He could always rob it back from Mr Krabbes, but he doesn't know whether he'd want to risk his job or not. "Patrick," he calls through the door, "I'm back. I brought food too!" He tries to keep his tone light and happy despite not feeling like it. He really is a deceiver. 

When the door opens, Bobby walks in, chattering to avoid the gnawing guilt he feels. It isn't until he's seated on the floor, waiting for Patrick to join him that he realizes the prince hasn't said a word. He looks up at Patrick, who's looking at him with a frown, eyebrows scrunched together. "Do you know what happened while you were away?" Is the first thing the taller of the two asks. 

Bobby shakes his head, gulping. "The guards found that there were things missing from the palace. Some silverware, some jewelry, some gold. We were robbed. And y'know the name I heard from the guards?" Bobby stays completely still, stiller than he's ever been in his life. The prince continues: "Acro. That's what they said. They said they were sure it had to be Acro because like all of Acro's thefts, everything was put back the way it was, neatly. Almost as though trying to hide that a theft had occurred."

It's true. When he's stealing from the vendors he can't necessarily afford to be meticulous, but on the small handful of home robberies that he's done, he's always made sure to neaten everything up. He looks away from the prince. "Why'd you do it?" He asks, voice laced with sorrow. 

This makes Bobby sadder but it also angers him. That's exactly what he was saying to the prince earlier. "I told you you wouldn't get it." Bobby stands up, decreasing the distance between them. "You didn't listen. You have no clue how it is out there or what it feels like to go to bed with an empty stomach, trying to make the best of it because your friends need it more. You don't know how impossible it is to make money out there, you don't know what it's like to essentially be forced to rob and run for your life because you grew up with money, you grew up comfortable." 

Bobby's suddenly of his rising voice, his finger poking Patrick's chest, the prince's breath hitting his forehead. He has to contain himself. "I should call the guards." Patrick states icily. 

"Do it." Bobby snarls. "I dare you." 

The prince narrows his eyebrows, and shouts the word at the top of his lungs and moments later, four guards rush in, grabbing Bobby by the arms. "This boy bothering you, your highness?" One of them states. His voice is deep, smooth like velvet. 

"That boy has confessed to me that he is none other than Acro." He States, maintaining eye contact with Bobby. 

Bobby can feel the blood leech out of his face, suddenly numb. He can't hear the conversation amidst his shock, and he hardly feels them dragging him away. He's looking at Patrick, who's looking at him. Both of them broken. 

The dungeon is cold and damp. It feels grey, sucking out the color of the world, leaving it hollow. The way he feels on the inside. He's curled in a ball in the corner of his cell, trying to piece things together. 

He's going to be executed. Day after tomorrow. It's off with his head. He's past crying now, he's just thinking and thinking and thinking. Bobby wishes he'd done everything different. He's hugging his knees to his chest when something clatters to the ground, startling him. The locker. 

He face palms. Of course! Why didn't he think of it sooner? Hurriedly, Bobby picks the necklace up, secures it around his neck and rubs it. "What, what do you—where are we?" 

"We're in the dungeon and I'm gonna have my head chopped off. They found out I'm the thief they've been searching for. Can you help me?" The genie blinks in surprise. Maybe it's the wild look in Bobby's eyes, or the desperation in his voice, but the glare that was fixed on him by the genie melted off Sheldon’s face, and he nods. “It’ll take a wish, though.” 

“Yeah, but I figure that my life is at stake here, probably a good way to use my first wish.” Bobby would smile, but he’s feeling so numb. So empty. So broken. 

Sheldon nods, snapping his fingers. When Bobby opens his eyes, the two are in a sandy setting, and in the back of his mind Bobby thinks of the word ‘desert.’ “Where are we?” He asks, fingers digging into the soft grains. 

“See that building that’s just barely visible?” Sheldon points into the distance, and if Bobby squints his eyes, he can just barely see a structure. He nods, and Sheldon continues: “Well, that’s where we need to head to. When we get there, I think we’ll find someone who might be able to help.” The mismatched pair head off towards the unknown. Well, unknown to Bobby. 

Hours later, they reach their destination, and strains of music hit his ears. There are people flitting to and from, chattering above the music in a tongue he can’t understand. He’s not sure where he is, but he’s relieved he isn’t home for the moment. He’d be a sitting duck, waiting for his demise to come at last. He could just never return, now that he thinks about it. He could stay here, lonely, unable to communicate with those around him. He would be safer. 

“Quit your sulking and get a move on.” Bobby’s companion had quit his floating, now walking beside him, dressed in clothes similar to his own. 

“I think I earned the right to sulk.” Bobby remarks sarcastically, rolling his eyes. 

“Why, because some guy you knew once upon a time ratted you out and he just so happens to be the prince and love your life?” Sheldon bats his eyes at the last part, mocking Bobby lightly. 

“Oh be quiet, you wouldn’t understand what it’s like to finally reunite with an old friend you have feelings for only to mess it up because of who you are.” Bobby sighs, blinking back tears. 

Sheldon’s face closes off in the span of a second: “Maybe I understand better than you think.” Bobby studies his companions face for a moment, eyebrows scrunched in thought. “Anyways,” The genie changes the subject, attitude flipping on a dime as they approach the doors to a castle, “Here we are.” 

Bobby isn’t exactly sure where  _ here _ is, but the genie knocks on the wood doors, and when they swing open, the genie and Bobby walk in, greeted by a giant fountain. Sheldon guides Bobby around the fountain, almost as though he knows exactly where he’s going. A couple minutes later, the two reach a door, and Sheldon knocks the door before swinging it open. Bobby’s about to protest and insist they wait for a response, but all his thoughts disappear when he sees the one and only Aladdin lounging on a fainting chair. He sits up when he sees the pair. “Hey guys!” He swings himself off the chair and stands in front of them. He’s a head or so taller than Bobby, and when Aladdin looks at Bobby he appears pained for some reason. “You’re so young.” Are the only words he appears to be able to communicate. 

  
  


Bobby’s the first to break eye contact. “I’m Bobby Porter. I got into some seriously hot water. I’m scheduled to be executed day after tomorrow. I don’t know what to do, but can you maybe help me?” Aladdin nods, sympathy written on his features.    
  


“I’ll try everything I can, but I don’t know how much help I’ll end up being. My circumstances worked out in the best way possible for me, but that might have been pure luck.” Bobby nods, wishing this didn’t even have to happen at all. 

"Alright, so have you tried winning the hand of the princess?" He begins, and Bobby flushes. 

"Actually, it's a prince, but yeah, I tried. Kind of. It backfired though.” Intrigued eyes meet Bobby’s sad ones. "I kinda robbed him and his father and he found out it was me and ratted me out." Bobby's cheeks burn, but mostly because it seems so stupid. Why would anyone risk robbing the royal family?

"Oh, that makes things a little tougher." Is the response he gets and Bobby nods somberly. 

"Well, you could get him away from the palace and talk things through with him?" 

"I tried that already." Bobby replies, irritated and sad. 

"Did you try that or did you get defensive? 'Cause it isn't uncommon for thieves like us to get defensive when confronted.” Bobby looks away, which gives the answer off. 

“Okay, that answers that,” Aladdin claps his hands, startling Bobby a little. “The good news is I’ve got a plan. But for it to work I need to come too.”

Bobby nods, “I don’t wanna use my second wish to get us back in case we need it for something later.” He’s still so shaken from the thought of his head getting chopped off, the feeling of the cold metal they bound his wrists with on the way to the dungeon burned into his skin, and he can feel the phantom nick of a sharp object caressing his neck. He pushes those thoughts away and focuses on his breathing only. He can’t break down here, not now. 

Aladdin seems to sense Bobby’s thoughts veering onto a much darker path, and he interjects into the noise in Bobby’s brain. “We can use my carpet.” Is the simple response given, and Bobby’s vaguely aware of a warm hand on his freckled forearm. 

He nods, focusing on that warmth as he stands up and puts on a brave front. “Right, let's get this thing started.” 


	9. The Thief's Prince Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> finally. this is the last part, guys. and I loved writing this, but i have so many other ideas, and it's good that I finished writing this

Bobby nods, focusing on that warmth as he stands up and puts on a brave front. “Right, let’s get this thing started.”

For anyone who’s wondering, riding a flying carpet is not as cool as it seems. It’s terrifying, going at such high speeds, unprotected. One wrong move and Bobby will be gone, taking a free fall through the air, a swan dive to the ground. So yeah, he’s scared, but it’s also so relieving. This freedom, it’s almost tangible. He’s soaring through the air, free, he never has to return. He could probably turn to Aladdin, tell him, “I don’t wanna go back,” and turn and go back, never returning to Bobby’s hometown. 

But maybe it’s the principle of the matter. Maybe he  _ needs  _ to go back, try to make things right. No matter how this ends for Bobby, he doesn’t want his friends to suffer because of his foolish mistake. Also, there’s a small but very large part of Bobby that feels as though he should get to make his claim. Yes, he’s robbed people, yes, he’s a thief. But he doesn’t deserve execution for that. 

There’s water below them now, and occasionally, Bobby can see animals gracefully leaping out of the silky water, diving back under. Even Sheldon is absorbed in the liquid below them, curiously studying it. Watching the mystical being totally entranced brings a smile to Bobby’s face. Small joys. 

His smile dwindles as he sees the palace of his home kingdom grow larger. “Are you sure you can fix this?” He asks Aladdin, worry seeping into his veins. 

“Well, I can try. We can always try turning back time with a second wish. I just don’t know if that’s the best option.” When Bobby looks at him questioningly, Aladdin adds, “Keeping things hidden from someone you care about is exhausting and eventually it’ll come to a point where this will happen again because you’ll get tired of sneaking around and hiding the truth.” Bobby looks away, but nods. 

“I guess you’re right.” He mutters. The carpet comes to a halt on the roof of the palace, and Aladdin ruffles Bobby’s hair before standing up. “‘Course I’m right. You wait here, I don’t want to risk this whole thing falling apart. Point out his room to me?”   
  


Bobby nods, and looks around before pointing at a structure in the slight distance. “Be careful,” Bobby blurts, holding onto Aladdin’s arm. The taller of the two nods before leaping off. Old habits apparently die really hard. 

He gets nervous, though, waiting around for a mess he’s caused to change. What if Aladdin can’t fix everything? He has to go and  _ try _ , at least. “Now, how does this work?” He asks himself. “Hey, carpet?” Bobby feels stupid for talking to a carpet, but he rears back when he sees the tassels move, almost as though it’s listening. “Bring me to the prince’s room, over there, please.” At Bobby’s words, the carpet gently moves towards its destination, as though it can sense that if it were to move faster, it would freak Bobby out. 

“Can you bring us a little lower?” He asks, hoping to see through a window. 

Luckily, the carpet manages to lower just underneath the window sill, and Bobby’s mop of curly auburn hair barely brushes the window. He watches as the rosy-cheeked prince approaches Aladdin. The two shake hands, and Bobby watches as Aladdin gestures while he speaks. Patrick’s face closes off, and he shakes his head, frowning.    
  


Aladdin’s gestures grew more wild, as he grows slightly angry, evidently trying to explain something that Patrick might not be understanding. He desperately wants to know what they’re saying in there. Instead, he’s stuck on the outside, observing everything that goes on inside. Aladdin sits Patrick down and continues talking. The prince looks upset, as he turns his head to the side, and looks out the window, the same one Bobby’s looking through. 

Bobby can feel his eyes widen in terror, but Patrick doesn’t seem to notice Bobby, turning back to meet Aladdin’s eyes. He says something, and Bobby can see Aladdin’s face light up slightly. Not much, but maybe he has another idea or something. 

Eventually, Aladdin exits the room, and through a series of leaps, winds up on the roof again. “Okay, so he’s agreed to visit you and talk,” Bobby sits up straighter. That’s good news! “But, he didn’t agree to any sort of pardon, so we gotta get you back down there.” Bobby nods, and Aladdin places a hand on Bobby’s shoulder, his face soft, and a little sad. 

It’s kind of insane how easily they were able to sneak down to the dungeon, but they manage to get in and Bobby slips into the cell he had been tossed into not long ago. Aladdin stays on the outside, shutting the metal door. A small clang resonates throughout the gray dungeon, and Bobby shivers, remembering everything that he stands to lose. “Just hang in there, we have a plan B.” Sheldon, who has been oddly quiet, disappears into the lamp without a word. 

Footsteps echo, soft at first, but grow increasingly louder. Bobby’s stomach knots up, and he presses himelf into the corner of his cell, suddenly uncomfortable and trying to be invisible. When Bobby looks to Aladdin for guidance, Aladdin shakes his head slightly. The prince walks up behind Aladdin, and stares directly at Bobby. His eyes are closed off, but everything comes back to Bobby as soon as they look at each other. His hand goes to his neck, and he can feel his heartbeat in the space directly underneath his jaw. The three are engulfed in silence, awkward and filled with tension. 

“So,” Patrick begins, “how are you?” 

If Bobby weren’t in his current predicament, he’s certain he’d laugh at the question. It has to be the most awkward question ever. However, the audacity of the question at this moment angers him a little. “Oh, pretty good considering my head’s supposed to be chopped off tomorrow.” The prince winces, but Bobby can’t be bothered to feel any guilt over the coment. 

“Well—” Patrick starts to say something, but Bobby is quick to cut him off.

“Don’t even bother with an excuse. Me being a thief doesn’t mean my head should get cut off.” He says, cheeks flushed. 

“If you would let me speak,” The prince states, “you would have heard that I was gonna have you pardoned. I was being too harsh, and you’re right. I don’t know what its like to be out there, living with next to nothing. There are hundreds of plates and silverware and other things that are simply unnecessary; we can stand to lose some of it.” Bobby can feel the hope returning to his body, and he scrambles in an effort to stand up. He grips the cold metal bars that separate them.

“Are you serious?” He asks, voice filled with hope. 

Patrick nods, “Your friend over there was the one who talked some sense into me.” The two glance at Aladdin, who simply nods once. “He made me sit down and listen to what he was saying, and he was the one who suggested I come down to talk to you.” The prince tilts his head down, seemingly ashamed. He mutters a word that Bobby doesn’t quite hear, so he tilts his head. 

“I’m sorry.” Patrick states, his pink tinged hair shajing slightly. 

“C-can you let me out of here?” Bobby asks, face pale. Patrick nods, unlocking the door and swinging it open. 

Bobby rushes towards the prince, wrapping his arms around him tightly. At first the prince is too stunned, frozen in place, but slowly he hugs Bobby back. “Thank you.” He whispers to Patrick.

When they pull away from each other, Aladdin clears his throat and gestures for Bobby to follow him. “Thank you so much.” Bobby starts, lunging himself at Aladdin in an embrace. 

Aladdin laughs, patting Bobby’s head gently. “You’re welcome. I actually wanted to tell you that he has obvious feelings for you. I don’t think he’d be as willing to pardon someone else if they were under your circumstances. I barely had to argue with him before he gave in. I’m not saying you have to like, give your body to him,” Bobby breaks eye contact with the Arabian prince to glance at Patrick, who’s watching them, “Because you aren’t indebted to him in any way. His reaction isn’t your fault. I just figured maybe I hsould let you know.” Bobby nods, thoroughly shocked. He didn’t realize it, but now that it’s been said, it does make sense. The way the prince’s eyes lit up every time he’d see Bobby’s face, how quick he was to let Bobby bathe in his tub. It makes so much sense. 

Aladdin pat’s Bobby’s back, giving him a quick hug again before pushing him away. “Go, I know you like him too. I can tell.” Bobby’s face flushes, but he manages to retort: “Yeah, even  _ I _ could tell you that much.” Aladdin rolls his eyes with a smile, walking towards Patrick. 

Bobby watches the prince closely, leaning against the wall. Next to him, the carpet places its tassel on Bobby’s forearm, and Bobby smiles in response, scratching very lightly at the carpet fibers. He watches the prince and Aladdin converse for a moment. They shake hands amiably, and the three—or four, counting the carpet—make their way upstairs.

Once outside, Bobby and Patrick watch as Aladdin flies off on his carpet. Bobby waves until he can’t see them anymore. They turn to look at each other, and Patrick nervously scratches at his neck. “I’m sorry, again. I shouldn’t have done any of that, and—” Bobby shakes his head, “It’s fine, really. Well, I can’t say that it isn’t affecting me, and I’ll be having some pretty terrifying nightmares, but—” 

Bobby’s cut off by the sensation of Patrick’s mouth on his. He’s a little confused, when did Patrick’s face get that close to his? His body warms up as he realizes he’s  _ kissing the prince _ . “Wait,” He says when he pushes Patrick away slightly. “We can’t—I mean, I don’t think I can move that fast. Things happened, and I do forgive you, but I still need time to get over this whole thing.” 

_ Now this is the real challenge _ , Bobby thinks.  _ This will determine what happens next. _ He’s bracing himself for some sort of negative reaction from the prince, but while he looks crushed, Patrick nods. Bobby excuses himself by saying that he needs to use the restroom, and he pulls the locket out, rubbing the metal with his thumb. “Can you make the guards and townsfolk forget what happened? It’ll make it much easier on me and Patrick.” Sheldon nods, and is about to snap his fingers before he pauses. 

“Wouldn’t you rather forget it too? I can make time go back, before this all happened.” Bobby shakes his head instantly.

“No,” he says, firmly. “I mean, I would, but I would make the same mistake if the clock rewound again. This is it, I can’t have this happen again and again.” Sheldon snaps his fingers, and Bobby smiles. “I know my third wish, too.” The genie leans forward slightly, waiting. “I wish to free you from being a genie.” Sheldon snaps again before his eyes snap open. 

“What?” Is the only thing he’s able to get out before green sparkles wash over him. “Why’d you…?” He asks, afterwards. 

Bobby smiles, “You’ve been trapped in there for the past twenty years, this past day has been the first time in twenty years that you’ve seen the world. It doesn’t matter what you did or said before that, no one deserves to be trapped somewhere for so long like that.”

“You could’ve used that third wish for anything you wanted, you could’ve made yourself rich, given yourself anything your heart desired, and you chose to free me?” Sheldon asks, voice laced with emotion. Bobby nods again, smiling slightly. 

Sheldon staggers forward, and Bobby catches the former genie in an embrace. “Go,” He whispers, “you’re free to do what you want now.” Sheldon whispers a ‘thank you’ to Bobby.

Bobby manages to distract the prince long enough for Sheldon to sneak past them. He’s done wrong in his past, that’s for sure, but maybe doing it for a good cause nullified his wrongdoings. All he knows for certain is that this is the end of it all. This is where he finally draws the line, because things are definitely going to change. 

“I have a question,” Patrick states out of the blue one night several weeks later. “And you can totally say no.” Bobby turns his head towards Patrick, curious. “Would you accept if I asked you to be my partner?” Bobby’s taken a little by surprise, by the question, and he leans back slightly. “I thought that’d be your reaction. It’s fine, forget it.” 

“No, I just…was shocked, that’s all. Of course I would, but can we still take it slow?” He asks, heart filled to the brim with joy. 

Patrick smiles at Bobby, placing a hand gently on his cheek. “For you, of course.” 


	10. Nightmares or Dreams, I’m Here for You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright I’m really sorry, it isn’t as long as i usually write these to be and this could be a complete fail but guys I really wanna finish rewriting my original book. I wanna try and get it published and it would seriously mean the world to me if y’all went and read it. I even have ideas to turn it into a musical so please please read it

Last week, Bobby saved his beach town with Sandy and Pat by his side. Last week, Bobby and Pat fought like they never had before. They stopped a volcano and Bobby’s taken some time to think since then. People like to visit him now, Pat and Sandy have been here, but that isn’t unusual. Mr Krabbes, his boss, visits him, sometimes with Sheldon and Karen. Even Edward has visited him, Edward of the opposite outlook compared to Bobby. 

He’s lying on the grass in his backyard, watching the tree sway in the gentle breeze as he teases the grass with the tips of his fingers. He just thinks as the world keeps spinning. Nearly everything has been closed for the past week in pure relief of the many lives saved, so Bobby hasn’t had to worry about going to the Krustie Krabbe. Though he thinks he’d rather be there, working. It’d distract him from everything on his mind. 

Bobby hasn’t slept properly in a couple nights, and the dark circles underneath his eyes have become normal to him. It’s just, everytime he closes his eyes, he sees something from those two days. Sometimes, it isn’t even something that really happened. So, unable to bear closing his eyes, he’s opted to stay awake instead. His eyes droop, and Bobby can feel how exhausted his body is right now; practically begging him to give in, go to sleep. But he knows if he sleeps, he’s gonna have a nightmare, and he just doesn’t have the strength or stability to deal with that right now. 

Bobby jolts upright when someone knocks at the door. Since so many people have been stopping to sit with Bobby, he’s left the door unlocked. And yet, they still knock. He turns onto his stomach instead of getting up, and uses his elbow as a pillow. Gary finds him, his furry orange body lying down right next to Bobby. Gary knows by now where Bobby might be, and so being the smart cat that he is, Gary has led his visitor to him. 

Visitors, it turns out. It’s Patrick and Sandy again, his girlfriend and boyfriend, and they lie down next to him, not needing to say anything. Bobby isn’t a quiet person, though, at least not when there’s people around. “Mh?” is the noise that emerges from his throat, it’s the only noise he feels he can make at this point in time, lost in a mist of his own fatigue. 

His eyes close as he feels fingers snake their way through his hair, and another hand rubs his back. Bobby's drowsiness grows as he's lulled to sleep. He's teetering on the edge of unconsciousness and barely registers Patrick's whisper right before everything dissolves. But his brain clings to it anyways, and the words grow softer and softer and softer.  _ We'll keep watch.  _

When Bobby wakes up, the sky is dark and grey and there’s debris floating through the air. Which isn't normal and it's kinda terrifying. He can feel his heart rate speed up in terror as he stands up, still looking up. He isn’t sure where he is exactly, but he knows he’s still in his town. There’s smoke in the sky, he can smell it; and as he takes a step forward, he nearly trips on something. He looks down, hand flying to cover his mouth in horror when he realizes he almost tripped on the body of his boss Mr Krabbes. He kneels down, shaky fingers reaching out to check for a pulse. He doesn’t know where that idea came to him, but he figures maybe it's just instinct, and he gasps when Krabbes grabs his arm suddenly. 

"You would never have been able to save us, boy." Bobby's brows furrow together in confusion as he draws back his arm. But they saved the town, Bobby could've sworn they saved the town. His breathing pattern is fast as he realizes it must have been a big dream to help him cope. 

He tried saving the town and wound up inadvertently killing everyone by convincing them to stay, that must be it. This is his fault. It's the only thought running through his head as he pivots and runs to find Patrick and Sandy. His brain is so full of thoughts it’s like one unbearable storm of noise, red and blue and green. 

Sandy and Patrick lie at the bottom of the mountain, their skin littered with bruises and scratches, clothes torn. Tears stream out of his eyes as he spots his friends and peers around him. Everything’s quiet, and that’s the worst part.

Bobby isn’t sure why he’s the only one alive, he doesn’t…he shouldn’t be here still. So why did he live? He closes his eyes, burying his face in his hands, and then the only thing he can hear are his own sobs, surrounded and completely, devastatingly alone. “Bobby…” He can barely hear it but he imagines he hears Sandy’s voice, calling him. “Bobby…” This time, it’s Patrick’s voice. “Bobby…” They say his name together, and it becomes a chant. He lifts his head, swiping at the tears paving their way down his face, and looks at the people he loves most. They’re voices are still singing his name, but they aren’t moving. Everything blacks out when he feels a hand touch his back. 

Red, orange, and yellow. Those are the only colors he can see when his brain lets him regain consciousness again. He groans, and when he moves his head, he feels a tickle on his cheek, and his eyes fly open. Grass, the little green strands shooting out of the ground. He watches an ant crawl up one as he tries to understand what’s going on. There’s a deep sense of dread rooted in his stomach, and he sits up, looking around. Blue sky, white clouds, there’s the tree in his backyard. He turns his head, and sees Sandy’s face full of worry, and turns the other way, takes in Patricks matching expression of concern. Gary jumps on his lap and head butts against Bobby’s chin, and Bobby pets Gary, relieved, but confused. 

“You had a bad dream.” Pat states simply. Sandy shoots a look at him, but places a hand on Bobby’s shoulder. “We tried to wake ya as soon as we realized.” Bobby nods, numb. They envelope him in a hug, and as they each press a kiss to Bobby’s cheek as they hold him, he draws Gary close, his heart beat slowing back down. 

_ We save the town _ , he thinks.  _ We did it, we’re safe, we’re alive.  _ He smiles slightly and closes his eyes briefly. Because everyone he cares about will help him get through this. And he’ll help them back. 


	11. The Memories Come in Floods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It isn't as long as I would like, and maybe it's a little rushed, but I think it's a pretty good one. I don't usually write fluff, so maybe that's why it's so short, but let me know what y'all think!

More than a thousand memories were captured in Edward's mind. He was never one to be very expressive with his words, and after his third grade talent show, he especially kept to himself. And he assumed a tough skin. And he turned to music and art to flourish. 

And yet he still wasn't good enough in anyone's eyes. He tried and tried but he could never get them to understand that he purposefully made notes sharp or flat or natural to convey his own emotions. There was no one correct way to play music, he lived by that. 

His painting and sculptures were a reflection of himself at what he thought was a most complex level. Others saw it as narcissistic, self obsessed. 

He was sad, truth be told. Ever since Bobby moved to the neighborhood he had to deal with constantly watching Bobby and Patrick enjoy each other's company, whether it be spent in tons of activity or just lying in the backyard, completely silent. He wanted to have someone he could do that with. But the truth of the matter was he didn’t. He was essentially completely alone. 

His two neighbors never seemed to understand that, though. Bobby’s optimism was too overwhelming for Edward to deal with, and Patrick usually went along with whatever Bobby was doing. Pat always seemed to look at Bobby like he was the greatest person to ever grace the earth’s surface. Edward wasn’t sure whether Bobby realized just how lucky he was to have someone that looks at him like that. Of course, Bobby looked at everyone like he were just seeing the world for the first time, wonder filled to the brim in his eyes. 

And of course, as unhappy as Edward may have been, seeing how well the two got along always seemed to give him hope. And when he managed to channel that hope, he would even argue that his art, musical and artistic, always seemed to alter, and probably for the better. 

He was more sure, confident. And when he saw the notations, _allegro_ , _marcato_ , _dolce_ , or the dynamics, _pianissimo_ , _mezzo_ _piano_ , _fortissimo_ , or even when he held a paintbrush in his hands, he felt like there was so much power to communicate whatever was in his head. It was an outlet to be more than he once was, built up and standing tall. 

During these moments in his mood, he felt as though he didn’t need anyone else. Him and his art was enough for him. He wanted love, but he wasn’t desparate for it, and maybe that’s what really counts in life. 

Thousands more memories run through his mind, and he latches onto maybe the most important one: when he finally asked Bobby and Patrick if he could genuinely be friends with them. Of course they said yes, Bobby had already assumed as much, but in Edward’s mind, this was the beginning of his new life. And yeah, maybe they got on his nerves at times, but he was grateful nonetheless. They gave him the confidence boost he needed to do what he percieved as successful. 

And in the end, that's all that matters to him.


	12. Red Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 10,000 years will give you such a crick in the neck 
> 
> If you get the reference, I officially give you a virtual hug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note, Red Light is a song by The Regrettes and I absolutely love their music style it just feels very 80’s girl pop. So that’s where the song is from, and Lacy Loo, another song by them, is referenced as well 
> 
> Also a certain voice actors Instagram was the inspiration behind Sponge In The High Seas . It was Tom Kenny, his Instagram handle is TomKennyandthehiseas. I just couldn’t resist

_ “You can’t love me, you’re not allowed to…” _

Patrick Starr was absolutely smitten with the leader of the popular 80’s style band, Sponge In The High Seas. The band’s leader was a short young boy, 19 years old. He had slightly curly auburn hair that bounced slightly when the music called for it. This boy’s whole aesthetic was mainly pinks, but branched to pastels too. 

_ “‘Cause if you did, I’d probably run from you…” _

Tonight, his outfit was a large pink sweater tucked into a pair of shorts with what Patrick can only assume are either cherries or strawberries. Maybe flowers? Anyways, he also had these circular pink sunglasses perched on his nose, although the indoor location and the time of day didn’t really call for them. 

Patrick sat in his usual spot, towards the back so as to not be noticed or bothered. Next to him, Sandy was perched on her chair, fidgeting and nervously tapping her fingers against one another. It reminded Patrick of a squirrel, but he wouldn’t dare say that to Sandy. 

There are other things he’d never tell Sandy. Like, for example, that he used to know the lead singer of Sponge In The High Seas. Bobby is his name—well, Robert, technically, but he always went by Bobby. He didn’t like his full name for some reason so he would always opt to go by the shortened version. 

_ “You can’t hate me, though you probably do…” _

They didn’t have a falling out or anything. Pat had had to leave the beach town he grew up in for a while. It’d been after a fight with his parents, he left and only grabbed his phone, charger, wallet, and car keys. He left and didn’t tell anyone. Didn’t message anyone because he was so desperate to try and keep himself from breaking down. But when he got that first phone call from Bobby, and heard the teary voicemail left when Pat didn’t pick up, he’d had to pull over onto the side of the road. Too many tears, he couldn’t see. 

He came to the town roughly a month ago, and found that with no reason to stay, his parents had left. It was kinda disheartening, Patrick thought, to find that his parents hadn’t cared enough to  _ try _ and find him. And when hed came to his favorite diner and found Bobby on the stage, he had made sure to sit where Bobby wouldn’t be able to see him. He wasn’t ready to face his best buddy yet. 

_ “Cause then I might just die and have to blame you…”  _

Other than Bobby, the band consisted of one Edward Telford. That part was a shock to Pat, Eddie couldn’t stand Bobby when Pat had skipped town. It was one of his favorite things to think about when he was alone at night. 

Pat had managed to come up with all sorts of crazy theories, but none that were probably real. Stranger than Eddie willingly being in a band with Bobby, he was also playing guitar. Pat didn’t know that Eddie could play guitar. Pearl was on drums, which was entertaining to watch, because he knew there had to be some sort of conversation with Eugene Krabbes, Bobby’s manager at the Krusty Krabbe. Or was, Pat didn’t know if Bobby was still working there. Obviously. 

“I think it’s about time you go up to him.” Sandy whispered to Patrick, still watching. He knew she was probably right, because Sandy is super smart, but the thought made his stomach clench. 

Sandy and Pat had met when Patrick had first come back to town. He was sitting in a grassy park, and she approached him, big smile and country twang. When she’d mentioned Bobby, Patrick had immediately trusted her enough to tell her everything. If Bobby truly let her be close to him, then she’s got to be a good person. 

Because although Bobby’s always been super kind to everyone, only a few people got allowed into his close circle. 

_ “I can’t breathe, well maybe that’s okay…” _

When Patrick shrugged his shoulders, Sandy let out a quiet sigh: “Now Patrick Starr, you listen to me. Bobby misses you, yer all he talks about.” Patrick shrugs agains and crosses his arms. He doesn’t wanna talk about this right now. 

“Do you know why he formed this band?” Pat shakes his head and clamps his hands over his ears. He can’t know. He has a feeling if he knows, he’s gonna spiral out of control. 

Sandy pushes gently on his arms, sympathy filling her eyes. “He’s doing other to find you. He told me all about it. Thinks somehow you’ll show up at one of his concerts and approach him.” When he looks at her, she hurriedly adds “don’t give me that look, you oughta know I ain’t told him yet. But that doesn’t mean I feel good about lyin’ to the poor boy. Half these songs are about you, Patrick. I know you ain’t a dimwit, you must’ve figured that out by this point.” 

_ “Maybe I’ll just save it for another rainy day…” _

He thinks of the song  _ Lacy Loo _ , thinks how he thought maybe that song was about him. He’d dismissed it at the time, figuring he’d read too deep. But now, there’s a possibility that it’d all been true. 

“I can’t…I’m not ready yet.” Is his response, and he can see Sandy roll her eyes in the dim light. He’s watching her intently, looking for any sign of deception.

“I reckon you’re ready Pat.” She pats his arm lightly. “‘Sides, I told Bobby I’d meet him after he finished tonight.” Pat could feel the blood drain out of his face as he spluttered, managing to hiss out an incredulous  _ ‘what?!’  _

_ “I can’t sleep, well maybe that’s alright…” _

Sandy nods, and they turn back to face the stage when Bobby talks into the microphone. “Alright folks,” Pat notes the pleasant smile on Bobby’s face. “This is the last song of the night.” Bobby proceeds to laugh at the protests from the audience. The laughter gets a smile out of Patrick, a tiny one. 

But now all Pat can think about is the reunion in just a few minutes. He’s so nervous, he can hardly hear the number over his thinking. 

Sandy must be able to tell that Patrick is debating running out of the diner because she rests her hand on his wrist and gives him a stern look that glues him in his place. He doesn’t want this, but he’s also too scared of Sandy to shake her off and leave. She knows where he lives, too, so he stays put. Maybe he can slip out before without her noticing. 

_ “I can save my sleeping for another empty night…”  _

The song ends, and Patrick stands when everyone else does, giving the band a standing ovation. Bobby bows and gestures at Eddie and Pearl, who also bow. Pearl also gives a peace sign at the hoots regarding her as the background vocalist. Pat has to admit she deserves it, her voice is amazing,  _ angelic _ , Pat thinks. 

“Before you all go for the night, please, if you know Patrick Starr and have any information of his whereabouts or safety, please don’t hesitate to let me know.” Patrick’s cheeks heat up in shame, the pleading look in Bobby’s eyes like a stab in the heart. 

Sandy grabs Patrick’s arm and steers him towards the stage. Bobby’s turned around and pointing at something as he chats with a crew member. Eddie and Pearl are also not facing him, which is good for the moment. Patrick watches as Bobby runs a hand through his messy hair, and smiles when he catches sight of pink nail polish. Pearl must’ve put it on him. 

_ “Kiss me at the red light one more time…” _

Sandy politely waits for Bobby and the care guy to finish talking before she reaches up and taps Bobby on the back. 

This happens in slow mo for Patrick, and each second that passes feels like an hour, and he grows increasingly panicked. Adrenaline kicks in as a result, and he has to fight the urge to turn on his heel and leave. 

Bobby turns and gives Sandy a beaming smile, hopping off the stage to give her a hug. He hasn’t et noticed Bobby, and that’s the thing everyone loves about him. When Bobby’s talking to you, he gives you his full attention and it makes you feel like you’re the only thing that matters in life. 

But it makes Pat shift from foot to foot. He freezes when Sandy gestures in his direction. “I brought someone for you.” Bobby turns, brows scrunched in confusion, but they fly up when he makes eye contact with Pat. His mouth falls open into an ‘O’ shape. 

_ “Every time I think of you feels like a crime…” _

Patrick smiles sheepishly, offering a half a wave. Bobby’s hand covers his mouth and his eyes fill with tears. Patrick falters, and sucks in a breath. Go figure he’d mess this up somehow. He gives a pointed look at Sandy, who shakes her head and mouths the word “wait.” 

“Bobby—“ is all he whispers before the boy in pink launches himself at Patrick, openly sobbing into Patrick’s hoodie. 

“I never thought you’d come back.” Bobby sniffs after a minute, pulling away and apologizing at the tear stains on Patrick.

Pat waves the apology away, claiming it’s not a big deal. And then Bobby’s face gets serious and he grabs Pat’s hand, dragging him to an empty table. “Where were you and why wouldn’t you answer my calls and texts?” He demands and Pat knows that he owes Bobby so much more than an apology, so much more than an explanation. 

He explains everything to Bobby, that night in detail. The raised voices, his parents telling him he’d never get anywhere in life because he couldn’t make above a C in anything other than his photography and music classes. Him shooting back claiming he wanted to study in music and photography. Trying to get them to understand that school just didn’t make sense to him. The terms they slung at him that night, hurling each one like a punch to his body.

He explained the split second decision to run away, pulling over when he heard Bobby’s voicemail. How he’d never stopped feeling bad about leaving Bobby. How Bobby hadn’t left his mind once in his absence. 

_ “I could be green, red, orange, purple or blue…”  _

When he finishes, Bobby’s crying again, eyes swimming with muted anger, sorrow, and hurt. Pat’s heart pangs, because Bobby should  _ never _ cry. After a moment of silence, Pat whispers “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left and not told you anything.” 

Bobby shakes his head, and pulls Patrick into a hug, gripping the fabric of his hoodie like Patrick will disappear if he doesn’t. “I get why you didn’t. You needed to have a bit by yourself.”

Pat rests his chin on Bobby's head, holding his freckled friend close. “Still. I shoulda said something. You woulda known how to keep me from running.” 

“Next time come to me. I don’t wanna lose you again Pat.” Pat nods, and he smiles as Bobby draws images into the back of Patrick’s hoodie with his finger. His skin lights up despite the clothing. 

“But you’re also amazing on stage. I promise that I won’t run without going to you and even then I’ll try not to run as long as you’re not beside me. Figuratively and literally.” 

Bobby pulls away, smiling, and cups Patrick’s chin with his hands, and kisses him once. Patrick’s startled, and Bobby pulls away, muttering a “sorry.”

Patrick’s the one who grins first. “Don’t worry about it. I like you, so….” he trails off, unsure of what to say next. 

Bobby laughs. “I like you too, you big dork. I wouldn’t get upset over just anyone leaving me like that.” He rolls his eyes playfully, but the comment stings Patrick a little, and Bobby’s quick to realize it. He cringes, opening his mouth to apologize but pat kisses him. “Don’t worry ‘bout it.” 

Bobby grins, and intertwines their fingers as he pulls pat behind him so he can finish cleaning up for the night, trying to make sure Pat won’t disappear. For once, Pat can’t be bothered to even try and complain about cleaning. He just wants to be with Bobby. 

_ “Only if it means that I’m keeping you.” _


	13. Heather— Conan Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> If you thought I was done here, you were wrong!! this has to be one of my favorite ones yet, and the song used is so good! 
> 
> Sorry for the long long wait, I graduated high school, im getting ready to start uni, so ive been a little busy!! If it's a while before I update again, pls check out my original work The Other Planet. I aim to get it published after I rewrite it!

_ "I still remember, third of December, me in your sweater, you said it looked better on me than it did you…"  _

Bobby was slumped in a chair, chin resting on an arm that was propped up by a cafeteria table. Prom was a bust, that's really all he had discovered tonight. 

Everyone always says prom is a magical night, and bonds are formed that will never break, and maybe Bobby is being a little over dramatic about this, but this dance turned out to be a total waste of seventy-five bucks. 

Truthfully, he'd wanted to be asked to prom, and by Patrick. But when it became clear that wasn't happening, his mom had insisted he still go, despite his lamenting about not wanting to. She'd promised him that he would later wish he had gone. Bobby supposed it would be better than being sprawled on the couch, watching movies. 

Now, however, all he wished to do was watch movies. Since he'd walked through the doors of the high school gym, Bobby had a flighty feeling gnawing at his insides. And he knew it was heartwarming when Pat walked through the doors with his mom, but he couldn't help wishing he was walking through that entrance with Patrick. 

Bobby had ducked into the bathroom—accidentally into the girls first, where they asked why he looked upset after their initial shock—the boy's bathroom, where he locked himself in a stall, and sat for a couple minutes. 

His heart was beating fast, so he pulled out his phone and played some Subway Surfer's in an attempt to calm down. It was just Pat after all, his best friend for life. There was no reason to be nervous. 

And that's when he wound up at this table. He'd weaved his way through the throng of dancing kids, chatting with a couple of them before moving on. Bobby had managed to catch a couple of glances at Patrick, who was seated at a table with his mom. But they weren’t talking, he was looking around with a frown. 

_ “Only if you knew, how much I liked you, but I watch your eyes as she walks by…” _

Bobby had a sneaking suspicion that Patrick liked Sandy, a really smart Texan. He had no proof of this, of course, besides how much they seemed to hang out these days. Bobby felt bad about that thought. She’s not a bad person, Sandy, that is. She’s really smart, and shes’ pretty, and nice, and all good things. But Bobby had been missing his best friend recently. He’d tried talking to Edward—or Eddie, as Bobby called him, despite Edward’s scowls—but it was evident that the tall, clarinet playing, art adept boy was consumed with work, and consequently had no time to talk. 

Bobby had sat down in the chair he’s now in, spinning stories out of the pattern on the table to keep himself occupied. Even he was aware how pitiful that sounded. Sandy and Edward had come up to him, separately of course, and chatted for a bit each. He’d grinned when Eddie voluntarily sat next to him, but Eddie had made sure Bobby knew he was only talking to him tonight because of how Bobby had been one of the few to treat him kindly. At that, Bobby’s mouth fell open in shock. Eddie was such a fun person to be around in his opinion. He’s going to have to talk with people and tell them how awesome Eddie is. 

Bobby half listens to what Eddie is telling him, nodding his head in agreement as he thinks of how he can help the talented man. Soon enough, Edward decides he’s talked enough, and excuses himself. That’s when Sandy practically leapt out of the almost non-existent shadows, nearly giving Bobby a heart attack. He jumps a little, and Sandy smiles, apologizing for startling him. “You? Scare me? No, no, I was just getting up!” Bobby tries, knowing that Sandy knows it’s a lie. 

_ “What a sight for sore eyes, brighter than the blue sky, she’s got mesmerized, while I die…”  _

“Mhm, sure.” Sandy gives him a knowing look. “Why are ya camped out here anyhow?” Bobby shrugs, not wanting to explain. “Patrick has been lookin’ for ya, he seems worried ‘bout somethin’.” Bobby looks away, feeling guilty. 

The ever-perceptive girl takes note of the expression on Bobby’s face, and in one motion, pulls out a chair and sits down. Bobby keeps his head tilted towards the table, hoping she won’t want him to talk about it. “Now, what’s wrong Bobby? You’ve been actin’ stranger than a cow dancin’ at a disco rodeo.” Bobby’s eyebrows scrunch together, a little confused by the saying, but then he shakes his head and thinks up a response. 

He shrugs, “Nothing, I just don’t wanna be here anymore.” Sandy’s own eyebrows shoot up, and she asks what he means by that.

_ “Why would you ever kiss me, I’m not even half as pretty, y _ _ ou gave her your sweater it's just polyester, but you like her better, wish I were Heather…” _

Bobby lifts his shoulder again, not sure of what to say or how to say it. He blows air out, watching a strand of his hair float up and fall down again while he thinks. Sandy see the discomfort on his face, and drags him outside, into the quiet. The air out here fills Bobby’s lungs, pleasantly warm. It smells like spring, hope, rebirth, renewal. “Now talk.” She orders, and he has no choice but to admire her persistence. 

“I kinda like Pat.” It’s a low whisper, and Sandy’s face brightens. Bobby frowns. “What’re you smiling about?” 

Sandy quickly irons out her face, assuring him that there’s nothing going on, gesturing for him to continue. “But I think he likes you, not me.” Bobby stares hard at a tree, watching as the moonlight pokes through the holes in the leaves. 

Sandy makes a sound in the back of her throat, and Bobby can’t quite place an emotion to the sound. “He’s a great guy, I would know, I did spend the past 17 years of my life with him.” Bobby continues, turning to Sandy and plastering a bright, fake smile on his face as he grabs her hands. “Pat’s a lot of fun to be around, he’s also really soft.” Bobby stares up and away from Sandy, trying to keep his emotions under control. 

“Bobby, you’ve got it all wrong—” Sandy starts, and Bobby numbly thinks how she does look pretty ethereal right now, and kinda all the time. How could someone not like her?

_ “ _ _ Watch as she stands with her holding your hand, put your arm 'round her shoulder, now I'm getting colder…”  _

“Trust me, Sandy, it’s okay. If you like him too, you should tell him. You guys will…have a lot of fun together.” He’s trying to work himself up to be happy. He should be happy for the two anyways. 

He hardly hears himself as he continues on, rambling, Sandy watching him with eyes that keep getting wider. It’s when he’s starting to turn to go back inside, and turning her too, that Sandy seems to snap out of her shock, and grabs Bobby’s shoulders. “Listen Bobby,” Bobby opens his mouth to ask something, confused, but Sandy shakes her head, so he nods. “You gotta trust me on this one. Pat doesn’t like me. I know who he likes, and this person is at this party. Patrick’s plannin’ on tellin’ them tonight, so you oughta at least go and see him.”  
  
Bobby shakes his head, once, before Sandy frowns at him. “He’s itchin’ to talk to you, been missin’ you all night, and y’all are both actin’ pretty dang stupid.” Bobby’s too confused, puzzling over that last part, and before he can protest it, Sandy’s grabbed his hand, and drags him inside. 

_ “But how could I hate her? She's such an angel, but then again, kinda wish she were dead, as she walks by, what a sight for sore eyes, brighter than a blue sky, she's got you mesmerized, while I die…” _

“Sandy…” That’s all Bobby can get out. The cold of the air condition raises goosebumps on his arms, and okay, maybe that isn’t the only reason. Because now, he’s going to be face to face with Patrick, and only Sandy knows why she’s doing this. 

He didn’t think he was wrong though, about Patrick liking Sandy. But now that she’s said that it isn’t her, Bobby feels almost like he’s been thrown into an existential crisis. His stomach clenches, and he desperately tries to stall by any means necessary, but Sandy doesn’t buy any of the excuses he’s giving her. She just tells Bobby to trust him and keeps moving. 

Bobby sees Pat sitting with his mom. His back is towards Sandy and Bobby, but he nods his head at whatever his mom says. Sandy deposits Bobby in a corner, and tells him to “wait there and don’t move,” before making her way over to the pair. 

He debates slipping away, now that Sandy’s back is turned, but he’s frozen instead, helplessly watching the scene unfold in front of him. From what he can see, Sandy puts a hand on Pat’s shoulder, greeting his mom, who smiles at her. Patrick’s looking up at her, and she briefly addresses him before pulling him up. Bobby’s heart is beating wildly in his body, and he swallows as Sandy brushes off the shoulders of Pat’s suit before leading him toward Bobby. 

_ “ _ _ Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty, you gave her your sweater, it's just polyester, but you like her better, I wish I were Heather…” _

Patrick catches sight of Bobby before the pair is in front of him, and Bobby finds himself mesmerized by Patrick. When they stop, Sandy waits for a beat or two, and exits, aiming a pointed glance at Bobby, the meaning of which he is able to immediately decipher. She’s telling him to confess. That thought sends him into a state of panic, and he blushes, not sure what to do or say. 

“Hey.” Is the first thing to come out of his mouth, and he considers literally face-palming. Instead, however, Bobby watches Patrick’s face scrunch up. 

“Why have you been ignoring me?” Bobby flinches at the emotion underneath the question. He never meant to hurt Patrick, never thought he was.

But now he knows better. “I thought you liked Sandy, I was trying to stay out of the way so you could tell her.” Pat looks taken aback by Bobby’s confession. 

“I don’t….” Pat starts to say something, but trails off, looking slightly confused. 

Bobby breathes in, stomach knotting and unknotting over and over as he debates saying it. He closes his eyes. “I like you.” Those three words stop everything. Bobby’s mind goes still, and he knows it’s impossible, but he swears it feels as though his heart has stopped. 

His hands drop to his sides—funny, he didin’t remember lifting them to begin with— and looks to the side, away from Patrick. He struggles—and fails—to keep a couple of tears from escaping, and he brushes them off, sniffing. “It’s okay, though. You should talk to the person you like.” He starts to back away, back hitting the wall behind him.

_ “Wish I were Heather, wish I were Heather…” _

“Bobby, you should’ve told me—” Pat starts, grabbing the shorter of the two and wraps his arms around Bobby. “I was trying to figure out how to tell you that I liked you.”

Bobby’s confused. Patrick likes him? “Wait what?” Bobby smartly asks. Patrick breathes in, and exhales before responding. Bobby supposes he’s thinking about what to say. 

“I like you too. I’ve been hanging out with Sandy to get advice on how to tell you. I–we—eventually decided I should do it tonight, at prom.” Bobby doesn’t realize how tightly he’s holding onto Patrick, he’s too focused on listening to what’s being said.    
  


He breathes in, and is surrounded by the scent of Patrick, Hot Topic’s Sugar Cookie scent. Bobby knows Pat would never admit to shopping there, so around the holidays, when they release the scent, Bobby buys a ton for Pat just in case he should run out. “I would never just stop hanging out with you.”

_ “ _ _ Why would you ever kiss me? I'm not even half as pretty…” _

“Sorry,” Bobby mutters, knowing Pat will hear it. “I should’ve asked if everything was alright instead of assuming and hiding. Especially since we've been best friends since birth." 

Patrick shakes his head, and after a minute, both feel as though the hug has branched into the awkward category. 

Bobby decides it's probably rude to not say hi to Patrick's mom, and when he brings that up to Pat, his best friend (who likes him back?) offers an arm with a goofy grin. Bobby takes this in stride, placing his hand on the inside of Patrick's elbow, trying to match with an equally enthusiastic grin. The pair set off towards the table Mrs. Starr is sitting at, finding Sandy chatting with her. 

"Hey Mrs. Starr! Hey-a Sandy." Bobby leans down to hug Patrick's mother. 

"Bobby and I were gonna dance." He tugs Bobby over to the floor, and Bobby waves at the two, sending a smile their way. 

"Pat, I can't dance." Bobby mutters, but he wraps his arms around Patrick's neck anyways. In return, the taller of the two places his hands at Bobby's waist, tentatively, as though not sure whether Bobby was fine with it. 

The contact sent a shiver down Bobby's back, stepping closer to Patrick. "Sure you can, anyone can dance, really." Patrick snorts softly, and Bobby elects to leave the matter, leaning his head on Pat's shoulder. 

_ "You gave her your sweater, it's just polyester,,," _

"So," Pat begins saying something, and Bobby peacefully listens. "Would you like to go with me tomorrow and get ice cream in the park?” Bobby leans away, playfully grinning at Pat. 

“Is that a date?” Bobby laughs a little, knowing the answer already. Pat punches Bobby lightly on the shoulder. 

“You know it is.” Bobby can’t resist leaning up on his toes and placing a chaste kiss on Patrick’s cheek. When he pulls back, he’s delighted to see the faint pink blush on his companion’s cheek. 

And if anyone were to ask him, he definitely did not squeal when Patrick picked him up and spun him around. 

  
_ “But you like her better, wish I were…” _


	14. The Boy in the Bubble

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was a request, and I got this specific request a while back. Before now, I hadn't had the time to complete this request, due to school, and work. But neither of those are a factor at the moment (I quit my job and the semester is done!) Fingers crossed that I can get the second request done before the new year!! Now, I gotta go, I'm helping my mom cook dinner!!!
> 
> also, if you wanted to give me a prompt, you can go to @colonel-insomniac on Tumblr!!

_ “It was 6:48, I was walking home. Stepped through the gate and I’m all alone, I had chicken on the plate but the food was cold, then I covered up my face so that no one knows…” _

Bobby had never really fit in with the people in his town. The other people thought he was too extroverted, too trusting. They seemed to love to tell Bobby that he was a boy in a bubble, that no one in the town was genuinely friends with him, that he ought to break out of his fantasy world. Bobby always brushed it off though, took the negative statements and pretended it didn’t affect him. He didn’t want pity from others. If everyone was using him, well...he likes helping people, so it isn't an issue anyhow. 

“How is this my fault?” Bobby wondered aloud to the dark air as he kicked the door shut behind him. He felt no need to cover up his face, no one was home, so no one would see. Padding to the kitchen, he digs out some ice cubes, placing them in a bag and holding it to his eye. As he slumps on the couch, he feels his cat Gary climb onto his lap. The tabby chirps at him, and Bobby nods his head, hugging Gary to him.

“Oh Gare-Bear,” the boy sighed, “How do I get myself into these situations time and time again?” The hand that wasn’t occupied with holding an ice-bag to his eye scratched the cat’s head. In response, Gary purred, and simultaneously meowed, as though responding to the boy. 

_ “I didn’t want trouble, I’m the boy in the bubble, but then came trouble…” _

Bobby Porter does  _ not _ get into fights. People see him as the consistently optimistic boy who is too naive. But his temper at times flares, and the one thing he will absolutely not stand for is people being rude to his friends. 

Of course, maybe approaching William Fitzgerald while he was surrounded by his posse of friends might not have been the smartest choice. But watching alongside Patrick and Sandy as his buddy Edward was basically publicly humiliated was not okay. Maybe the furthest thing from it, in all honesty. 

So Bobby did what he thought was right and marched forward. As he recalls Pat grabbing his arm in an effort to stop Bobby, the boy lifts his chin slightly, still adamant that his decision was right. 

_ "When my mom walked into the living room, she said, "Boy, you gotta tell me what they did to you," I said, "You don't wanna know the things I had to do" she said, "Son, you gotta tell me why you're black and blue…" _

Bobby remembers the surprise that passed over Williams' face before he disguised it with disdain. 

_ "You need to leave Edward alone now." He had said through gritted teeth. _

_ "Oh really? And why is that?" The pretentious musician replied, arching an eyebrow.  _

_ With a brief glance at Eddy, Bobby felt his anger strengthen. A crowd had begun forming, and he wasn't sure where Pat and Sandy were at that moment. "Because Edward is by far the most talented person ever, more talented than your pretentious self could ever be." Bobby spat the words out, and relished the surprise flitting on the taller guy's face.  _

_ His satisfaction was short lived, however. The next thing Bobby remembers is the feeling of something hitting his eye and him falling backwards. A nervous hush fell over the crowd as they waited for Bobby to retaliate.  _

_ "I said I didn't want trouble, I'm the boy in the bubble, but then came trouble…" _

_ Bobby scrambled to his feet and threw a right hook at William. Logically speaking, Bobby knew that it likely was not William who punched him, but he knew this was the musicians fault.  _

_ William stumbled back, cursing out Bobby as he clutched his cheek.  _

_ "And my heart was pumping, chest was screaming, mind was running, air was freezing, put my hands up, put my hands up, I told this kid I'm ready for a fight…" _

There's a knock at the door that startles Bobby out of his daze. Gary hops off his lap and trots to the door, sticking his head out the little cat door he had installed. 

He knew Patrick and Sandy were likely the ones outside. He also knew they didn't agree with how he'd handled things. But he picked himself off the chair and opened the door, and was surprised when he saw Edward there as well. So surprised, he accidentally lowered the bag of ice. 

Sandy winced and Pat looked away. Eddy looked down at his shoes, his clarinet case clutched in his hand. Flushing with embarrassment, Bobby steps aside and gestures for them to enter. "Bobby, Eddy here has got somethin' to tell ya." Sandy broke the silence, glancing at Eddy with a nod. 

Curious, Bobby leaned forward in his chair. Ed rolls his eyes and looks away "Thank you for standing up for me. And...I'm sorry about earlier." 

_ "Punch my face, do it 'cause I like the pain, every time you curse my name, I know you want the satisfaction, it's not gonna happen…" _

_ After hitting William, Bobby saw another fist flying at him, and ducked out of the way, and directly into a different hand. This time, however, Bobby didn't fall back. Instead, before his attacker could pull his hand back all the way, Bobby had grabbed a hold of his wrist and managed to pin it behind the guys back.  _

_ The idea of kicking this guy briefly fled through Bobby's head, but instead Bobby shoved the guy away, flinching when he touched his cheek and it came back slightly red.  _

_ As Bobby went to retrieve his backpack he'd dropped, he heard Eddy mumble "I didn't ask you to do that."  _

_ The shorter boy spun around, head slightly tilted to meet Eddy's gaze. "Eddy, how is it that this is my fault now? I stood up for you, I didn't see anyone else do that. I thought I did something good." Bobby stormed away after, entirely wrapped up in the overwhelming exhaustion and pain.  _

_ "Knock me out, kick me when I'm on the ground…"  _

Peering at Edward before slumping in his chair, Bobby shrugged. "It's not too big a deal, because I think it was the right thing to do." 

Mostly because Bobby couldn't see from his left eye, he didn't realize Patrick was kneeling at his side until he felt his best friend's hand gently tugging at the bag. 

Defenses instantly raised, Bobby pulled away. He felt guilty at the heartbroken way Pat looked. "I— Patrick, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it in any way, I just…" Bobby bit his lip and looked down. 

Bobby stood, and in a whisper, said "please, could you guys leave me alone for now?" He moved toward the door, intending to go on a walk, but Sandy appeared before him. So he backed away, only to bump into Pat. "Don't you get it lil' dude?" Sandy giggled. 

"You aren't going anywhere." Patrick finished for Sandy, and wrapped his arms around Bobby. 

Noticing Eddy trying to exit the scene, Sandy pulled him into the hug, trapping him in the embrace. 

_ "It's only gonna let you down, come the lightning and the thunder, you're the one who'll suffer, suffer…" _

Content in knowing that his friends weren't mad at him, Bobby allowed himself to feel the swell of genuine love for his friends, and addition to the feelings he's already felt for Sandy and Pat. But that's for another time. 

  
_ In the end, _ he surmised,  _ it doesn't really matter what anyone wants to tell me because these people mean the world to me.  _


	15. Love, Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another request? more likely than youd think!! 
> 
> I got it done before the new year in florida time tho so hah mission= accomplished. 
> 
> again, if you like my content, and wanna request something, you can find me on tumblr as @colonel-insomniac. I'll get to you as soon as i absolutely can so patience please!

_ “Mama tells me I shouldn’t bother, that I ought to stick to another man…” _

Edward Telford could think of a million reasons to not like Bobby, his next door neighbor. And at the top of that list, is the noise levels, because Bobby never knew how to be quit, apparently. And yet, as with everyone else, Bobby had managed to worm his way not only into Edward’s life, but—unfortunately for Ed—his heart as well. 

Which isn’t to say Edward is keen on that thought. Liking the boy comes with a lot, practically comes with liking Patrick as well. Sandy, too, but he could tolerate her, she was smart, and not a nuisance. 

No, if Eddy was perfectly honest, he was not a man that was uptight and high strung all the time. That’s just what happens when no one quite appreciates Edward’s efforts. Edward set his cup of coffee down with a sigh. There was no arguing it, he liked Bobby, despite all his... _ quirks _ . 

_ “A man that surely deserves me, but I think you do…” _

Edward remembers the events of the volcano. Too well, in his opinion. Bobby had been the only one to believe in everyone else, all while being unsure when it came to believing in himself. 

Bobby pushed further and further, and yes, while panic was a result of stress, and that caused the fighting, the icing on the cake came after Patrick and Bobby publicly fought. What had been Patrick’s followers wasted no time with the new of their savior accepting his role, and the townsfolk were able to piece everything together. 

The news of the fight kinda shocked Edward. He knew that their were high tensions of course, but didn’t realize quite how high they were getting between the close friends. Edward never thought he’d live to see them fight again, their arguments always few and far between. 

_ “So I cry and I pray and I beg for you to love me, love me, say that you love me…” _

Edward sighed again, pushing away the memories of it all. Everyone else had seemed to move on. Of course, the slumbering numbskulls on his couches didn’t help occupy his mind. They’d come over with the intention to enlighten Edward about something or another. Halfway through whatever nonsense had been on screen, he found himself at the foot of the couch while both Bobby and Patrick slept. 

He downed his now cold coffee with a grimace, setting the mug in the sink and climbing the stairs, intent on getting ready for bed. Stopping on one step, he turned around and quietly walked back to the kitchen. Mama didn’t raise a boy with no manners, and so he ought to leave a glass of water for each of them. As annoying as those twins of nightmare might be, they were his neighbors, and the only people to really think of him as their friend. 

As Edward approached the coffee table to place the glass cups, he could have sworn he heard a mumble. He merely shook his head,  _ now’s not the time to lose my mind,  _ Eddy chided himself. He leaned away from the table, and took one step towards the stairs before hearing a mumble yet again. 

It would appear that Bobby was mumbling in his sleep, and all Edward was able to piece together was “Don’t leave me alone.” It made an uncomfortable shiver run up his spine, mostly cause he knew that Bobby was dead asleep. 

_ "Leave me, leave me, just say that you need me..." _

Edward sighed and perched on the edge of the couch, holding his breath. Heart pounding in his chest, Edward carefully lowered a hand onto Bobby Porter’s hair, and patted. The younger man stilled at the touch, and Ed watched as Bobby’s hands seemed to impulsively reach towards Patrick, who’s head rested on Bobby’s legs. 

The peace that he could essentially sense flowing through the two boys and to his hand nearly made Edward pull away. He hadn’t felt such peace since the thought of graduation, finally getting away from what didn’t matter anymore. He thought he’d be able to pursue his dreams since he was finally done, but no matter how hard he tried, no one appreciated an artist trying to portray their struggle with their mental health and identity. 

_ “I don't care if you really care, as long as you don't go..." _

Edward never knew what to really say, and perhaps that was the issue at its root. He wasn’t good with words, so he figured some form of art would definitely communicate his thoughts. And in Edward’s mind, it did. The townsfolk chalked him up to narcissistic, and didn’t give him the chance to explain. 

But Eddy had to take the chance. Maybe hesitating would never be fruitful, and as much as it would pain Edward to even think of, maybe Bobby had a point.  _ Even if his point never makes sense _ , Edward thinks. 

Even though he wasn’t exactly sure of what his feelings towards the sleeping boys on his couch were, Edward whispered “I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone this much before.” 

The twin smiles that appeared nearly sent Edward tumbling off his stoop on the couch armrest. 


End file.
